


The Spring of Unity

by Haruki324



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: AUTHOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS, Also doing her best to save Hyrule, Anal Fingering, Astral Observatory, BAMF Link (Legend of Zelda), BAMF Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Canon-Inspired Magic, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Edging, End-of-the-World Sex, Evil curious girl, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploring Memories, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gerudo Town, Grief/Mourning, Hot Springs, Hypothermia, Instructions Unclear, Last-ditch hope, Link is a Gentleman, Link is pushed to the limit, Link's doing his best, Massage, Memory #15 alteration, Mipha (mentioned) - Freeform, Morning After, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Mythical Creature, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Podfic Welcome, Poor pent up boy, Power Struggle, Rough Sex, Runes, Secret Location, Self loathing character arc, Sharing Body Heat, Slow Burn, So is he honestly, Solving Riddles, Spoilers for Noble Pursuit Recipe, Stoic Knight character arc, Teasing, Testing Boundaries, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Trials, Uncomfortable Link is Uncomfortable, Vaginal Fingering, Very light dubious consent, Zelda has an evil side, Zelda's Down on Herself, Zelda's trying to be nice, consensual voyeurism, pre-Ganon, shrine, super light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 121,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haruki324/pseuds/Haruki324
Summary: To you who have travelled into this mountain, I offer you these trials:In your travels, you’ve relied on the equipment that you’ve found along the way…Believing yourselves to be self-reliant...For these trials, you must cast aside your equipment and your pride...and face this challenge with nothing but one another to rely on.





	1. Hebra

“Perhaps the Spring truly doesn’t exist.”

Link knew that tone, the tone that twisted her face with frustration. He eyed the back of her head from a few paces behind. She examined the Sheikah slate like her gaze would split it in two and a fairy would pop out. Zelda only grew more frustrated with the snowquill gloves impeding her ability to work the screen efficiently.  
  
_Timing’s about right_, Link thought, watching colors push their way through the thick haze of Hebra skies. Night was approaching. A cold chill managed to snake its fingers under his thick collar and scratch up the back of his neck. They needed to stop anyway.  
  
Before she could spiral down into dejection, he began busying himself with setting up camp: Firewood, a large tent, roasted pepper skewers re-heated on the fire. The sheer rock beside them should temper the worst of the winds, and trees provided enough cover that distant monsters wouldn’t get too curious.

He made one last sweep of the area to ensure safety, and when he returned, he found Zelda leaned back against a tree, frowning harder at the slate. “The other three are to the East—Akkala, Faron, and Lanayru. They all line up to this exact area…”  
  
She’d taken off her gloves to better work the slate. Her fingers looked stiff and she didn’t seem to realize that she was shivering. Her desperation at this last-ditch attempt to access her powers was clearly getting the better of her.  
  
She startled at his hand on her shoulder then relaxed to see Link offering her a flameblade to hold. His eyes were concerned first and warm second.  
  
Smiling gratefully, Zelda accepted the weapon. It was so warm it hurt until her hand adjusted, then she switched to the other. “Thanks, Link.”

He knew better than to try and pry her off of the subject of her focus. Link just stoked the fire and turned the chilis in hopes of luring her over instead.  
  
Their companionship had become amicable ever since he saved her in the Gerudo Desert. However, that didn’t mean the air was light. Their recent journey to Mount Lanayru had left her with that _look_ in her eye. He knew she felt like a failure. That intense resilience so core to her personality was faltering. And he was powerless to help.  
  
“What is that wonderful smell?” Zelda crunched snow on her way into the clearing. The slate was mercifully locked in its holster. Link beamed in triumph that his lure had worked, and he extended a skewer of chilis and mushrooms with ground rock salt for flavor.  
  
She gratefully sat and accepted the skewer, and seemed to force herself to enjoy the warmth, the food, the rest, the company. Link knew she needed to let out the tension in her shoulders, and he’d allow her in her own time.

“Your official title is the Hero of Hyrule. However, I have half a mind to strip you of that title.” Link looked up, mouth full, eyes startled. Then she finished, “You’d be much better suited to being named the Hero of the Castle Kitchens.”  
  
At his visible relief, she allowed herself to laugh. It left the dredges of a smile lingering on her face.

She watched the fire, listened to a snow owl’s call. It was all on her to protect this. She knew it so, so fully. “I wonder… if I was stripped of my title, who would I be?” Link tipped his head curiously, finishing his second skewer. “As in, who am I, outside of being the Princess? Is there any purpose for me?”  
  
He watched her for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He got the sense she wasn’t being rhetorical. When her gaze broke and she seemed to give up on him responding, he broke the silence. “We’re more than just our titles.”

Zelda’s dim smile brightened just a fraction. “That’s true.” She placed her finished skewer beside her and leaned on her crossed arms. “The Spring of Unity is said to be in an area of warmth, but all of my calculations and topographical studies indicate that the only place that may be possible is in the Hebra region. This spring is my last chance to be able to harness my sealing powers. We’ve been circling this area for days… If we don’t fin--- Link.” She cocked her head at him digging through his never-ending, korok-enchanted pack. It’s unlike him not to listen. “What are you doing?”  
  
Cowed, Link grinned back sheepishly. He slowly pulled out a wrapped package and peeled it back. It was a fruitcake.  
  
He had a twig in his other hand. He set it to the flame, then stuck the makeshift candle into the cake.  
  
“We didn’t celebrate your birthday.”

She blinked at his bashful expression to the cake then back again. “You’re just trying to distract me from my sad thoughts, aren’t you?” she accused with a spreading grin. He nodded emphatically and she couldn’t help laughing. “Well, it’s not working, but thank you anyway.”

Hebra seemed just the slightest bit warmer that night. 

They finished the cake in comfortable silence. Wolf songs competed with the howls of Hebra wind pulling at the trees in tandem. The heat of the fire and her own body had melted some of the snow around her, soaking the seat of her pants. Even cozied up by the fire, Zelda felt the chill settling in and decided she’d had enough.

“I’m heading off to bed for the night,” she informed him, lighting a torch to keep at her bedside. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. The knight, in his own knightly way, began cleaning up their meal and setting up his bedroll next to the fire. Zelda lingered at the entrance to the tent, watching him.  
  
Even blocked by the rocky outcrop, the wind was still tugging something fierce at the fire and Link’s hair. It was making his work more difficult. Flurries of snow stung his eyes and he winced. He fed the starving fire.

A pang of sympathy hit her. He not only had to carry the weight of his own title, but he had to deal with her on top of it. It seems unnecessarily cruel to leave him out here. He turned, catching her staring, and cocked his head back at her.

“Why don’t you come inside for the night?” She has to speak up to be heard over the growing winds.

Link froze. Somehow, his already chill-reddened face flushed a deeper shade. Zelda clearly found the expression endearing and cleared her throat. Sensing he misunderstood, she purposefully spoke with more poise, more clarity, “Bring in your bedroll. It is freezing out here, and you’ll be much happier inside.”  
  
He seemed to sense her offer was perfectly innocent, but still faltered in coming up with an answer. The longer he took, the more devious and cunning her eyes cut back at him. She was amused! That’s certainly not helping. Any answer he’d started got jumbled in his throat. “I—Princess, that’s not…”

Could he be executed for that?

She broke out into a grin, eyes tossing back some of that playful firelight back at him. “Relax, Link.” She held up her hands in a gesture of good-will. “I think given the circumstances, sheltering together is not considered scandalous.”

He still looked suspicious, but she could tell he was considering her offer. The fire careened as a stray gust of wind clawed through the campsite. Zelda visibly shivered. Link wore a face like he was sizing up an enemy. She wasn’t sure how she felt to be the subject of that stare.

Then, to her surprise, he pulled the flameblade from the ring of bare dirt and approached.

Before she even had the chance to be intimidated, he turned his back to her and assumed the wide stance of a guarding soldier, resting hands atop his sword. “Get some rest, Princess.”  
  
She stared at the back of his head. _I vastly underestimated how stubborn he can be._

With a sigh, she acquiesced and went inside.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Zelda awoke earlier than usual, cold in her bed. The torch was barely clinging to life.

When she’d changed into her snowquill clothes (mercifully dry now) and opened the tent flap, she found Link sitting in the snow, face resting heavily on his flameblade. His eyes fluttered at her noise and opened blearily.

“You’re stubborn,” Zelda remarked, dryly.

“You’re awake,” he answered, equally obvious.

They packed up camp and set out once again. Zelda always loved the morning time. Fresh opportunities, singing birds, the bubble of hope she desperately tended to throughout the day to keep from bursting. Link seemed to pick up on her good mood, jovially offering her a spicy elixir. She accepted even though she didn’t feel she needed it at that moment. Warmed, she began prattling on about the rarity of insects native to the Hebra region. She held the camera at the ready in case one showed itself.

Link half-listened, half scanned for dangers, finding none. Snow crunched under their boots.

“It’s strange… I can’t find anything in the Hyrule Compendium regarding the Spring of Unity. You’re sure that—What was her name? The Great Fairy outside Kakariko?”  
  
Link stumbled, realizing she’d asked him a question. “… Cotera?”

“Yes! Cotera. You’re sure that she’d said somewhere with warm water?”

Link nodded, certain. “She said they draw their power from the Springs. But her favorite was the one with the hot water flowing.”  
  
Zelda’s face scrunched up, as if trying to work out a riddle. She thought out loud about the logistics of Great Fairies accessing Spring water when they seem trapped in their own pools. Link shrugged unhelpfully.

“In any case… if there’s hot water-- and there obviously isn’t any out here on the surface—it must be some sort of underground source. Somewhere protected.” She put her chin in her hand. “Perhaps we’ve been searching in all the wrong ways. We should be looking for an opening into the mountain, not a spring on top of it.”  
  
This realization incensed her. Just like that, she was enthralled in the work of analyzing the slate once again for clues. Link didn’t catch much of what she was saying since it was mostly said to herself.

They were approaching the Shada Naw Shrine, making their way across the narrow stretch of traversable mountainside. Steep cliffs flanked their sides; Death Mountain and Hyrule Castle watched their journey, as indifferent as ever.

“That would mean… we probably should be scouting lower on the mountain.” Zelda sounded exhausted all of a sudden. She wiggled her boots like her feet were killing her already.  
  
Link indulged her in a half-smile. “Going down is easier than going up.”  
  
She glared at him childishly, then turned her attention back to the slate. “Wait a minute. My calculations aren’t wrong. It _has_ to be in this area.”

Link realized when she did. _It’s under them._  
  
Ecstatic, Zelda zoomed in even further on the slate. She was so excited that even Link forgot himself, sidling up to her shoulder to watch. She was scanning for something… _There._

  
~*~*~*~*~*~

They stared down over the edge. Vertigo played tricks on Zelda’s mind and she desperately clutched onto a nearby treebranch for purchase. Oh, that’s a far fall.  
  
Link at least had the decency to try and hide the fact that he was laughing at her, but he lacked in competency. The Princess glowered at him in a very un-Princess like way. “How in Hylia are we to get down there?”  
  
Link reached into his enchanted pouch, producing his paraglider. “I think I have an idea.”  
  
Zelda crossed her arms. “Great. Well, climb back up here when you’re done praying to the Goddess on my behalf.”

This earned her a pleading look from Link. _Come on, Zelda, be rational. _Thinking over her options, Zelda saw exactly no traversable way in or out of the gully below. She didn’t have Link’s knack for rock-climbing. But they’d established that this was the only logical entrance point into the mountain. The snow-covered rocks opened in a scar at the bottom that promised cave entrance.  
  
“Will that even support two people?” She sniffed suspiciously at the paraglider.

Link shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”  
  
“That is exceptionally reckless,” Zelda balked, “The King will have you executed for such negligence.”  
  
Link grinned back, knowing an empty threat when he heard one. “Won’t be much of me to execute if I’m wrong.” He watched her, letting the mirth simmer between them until it faded away. Ultimately, it was her call, and he waited for her to make it.  
  
She worried her lip then finally spoke. “Okay. How do we do this?” She was doing a fantastic job covering up how nervous she was.  
  
By way of an answer, he turned his back to her and crouched down, gesturing for her to climb on. Zelda hesitated, eyeing her unlikely steed. “_That_ is a very un-Princess like idea.”  
  
Link rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I need my hands free.”

“I’m bigger than you.”

The knight shot her a look over his shoulder. “Doubt it. It’ll be fine, Princess.” His confidence in his abilities was the little push she needed.   
  
She climbed onto his back, trying to situate herself. Link took her weight as if it were no more than his normal gear. It was definitely different—She hadn’t received so much as a hug since… wow, for a very long time. Now, being completely pressed to someone else, she felt decidedly very un-Princess like. And warm.  
  
Unnaturally warm.

Link swayed to get his balance, aware of the heat growing between them. He suddenly thought that there was _something very wrong _happening to him. He hadn’t noticed that his palms were sweating until his mitt slipped off. She crossed her legs in front of his hips to catch herself, which certainly didn’t help matters.  
  
She squirmed uncomfortably. Link diligently thought about King Roam Bosphoramus. “Wait,” she breathed in his ear. He nearly chucked her over the ledge in a panic. 

She slid off him to stand. Relief and cold air flooded him.  
  
“The uh—The flameblade,” she began, voice a little higher than she meant.

_Right. _No wonder he was sweating. Without looking at her, he shed the strap with the blade from his shoulder and collected his fallen glove. “You wear it.”  
  
He heard her comply then place her hands on his shoulders. Big, hairy, salt-and-peppered hands of King Roam. Yep, that’s what they were. He lifted the not-King and made sure she was ready before running forward to the lip of the cliff.

The sails crackled as they caught the wind.

Zelda’s legs nearly squeezed the breath out of him. Maybe he shouldn’t have taught her the basics of horsemanship. Her thighs were strong enough to make black spots at the edge of his vision. Her face was tucked into his hair in terror. Even with the parasail safely deployed, cracking in the wind, Zelda didn’t lift her head until well into the descent.  
  
This was amusing enough to Link that he nearly lost focus. “Hey, you’re good,” he yells over the wind.  
  
She couldn’t help laughing, little bubbles of adrenaline-fueled joy making her jittery at every nerve. She could see the hard-edged canyon separating Greater Hyrule from the other land masses to the North. The world suddenly felt so much bigger than her and her little worries.  
  
He strained to listen to the sound of her laughter over the popping sail. It was something so rarely heard, it seemed wasteful not to be able to hear it fully. She finally relaxed, just enough for him to not be in pain.

He prayed to Hylia he would be able to keep this memory.

He should have been paying more attention.

Out of the snow burst an Ice Lizalfos, alerting multiple others from their disguises. A jet of freeze-dried air shot directly at them, and Link barely managed to swerve the sail. The reptiles squawked at them, bouncing around joyously. Zelda’s shriek in his ear would definitely leave it ringing later.  
  
“Link!” she cried.

Focus overtook him. The world slowed down. They were Ice Lizalfos, and he had his bow in hand, fire arrows at the ready before he’d even had the thought to do so. They were freefalling, and Zelda’s additional weight made him miscalculate the first shot. He adjusted the second, sending a lizard up in a poof of mist and malice.  
  
Another jet was headed their way, and Link skillfully dodged it by opening up the sail. Zelda nearly lost her grip from the change in forces.  
  
A fire arrow was his answer to the jet. The Lizalfos went up in a poof. None of the others mourned it.

They hadn’t had a chance. Link dispatched two more in the same fashion, using the islands of flat rock to corral them.  
  
He scanned shrewdly, looking for more. Everything was white, all white below them. They were known to camouflage themselves. They only had enough space between them and the rocks below for one more shot.  
  
Link wouldn’t get to take it.

They cried out as they were side-blinded by a blast of cold air. Even with their elixirs and their snowquills, the cold shot straight into their veins. Their muscles seized, and Link lost grip on one side of the paraglider. The new wind sent them spiraling and careening out of control.  
  
Zelda hung on for dear life but was thrown from Link’s back. She shrieked, grasping wildly for him, and watched him grow small in the distance.  
  
Then she felt something sting against her back.


	2. Trial of Cold

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was warm. So, so warm. She felt weightless. Her arms floated in front of her chest.  
  
Someone was yelling at her.

_Link_ was yelling at her.

He seemed to stop when she moaned in pain. Zelda’s eyes squeezed shut then blearily coaxed themselves open. The droplets of water on the tips of her eyelashes obscured Link’s concerned face.

She laughed without any force at the silly warped face. He didn’t seem to think it was funny.

“S’warm,” she mumbled, waiting for consciousness to come in whenever it felt like it. When it did, she next realized that he was holding her up in waist-high water. Warm water. Hot water. “Aww… you ran me a bath.”  
  
She sighed deliriously into his chest, and Link finally released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She was okay.

Her eyes popped open all at once. “Wait. A bath?” She shook her head, finding it heavy with hair. He released her, letting her get her bearings. “What’re you…” An accusation died on her lips. “Hot springs.”

They were in a partially covered grotto, pillars supporting disks of flat rocks surrounded them. The sky managed to poke light in through the spaces between the islands of rock above.

“Hot springs!” she repeated, more excited. She grabbed his shoulders. “We found it?” Link smiled back at her, relief in his eyes. He nodded.

Memory seemed to catch up to her. “And the Lizalfos?” She followed his eyes to the pile of tails at the edge of the spring. “Oh.” She seemed to realize that they were both knelt in a hot spring, her hands clutching his shoulders and his hovering anywhere but on her.  
  
She let him go and made a point of wringing out her hair. He did the same.  
  
“This is amazing! We need only to find the entrance!” She looked around, eyes peeling every layer of rock around her with gaze alone. She thought she saw something just outside the spring and went to move for it.  
  
But she stopped at his hand on her wrist. He pulled away like he’d been burned. “Sorry, but—Princess, that’s unsafe.” She cast him a look that showed just how little credibility his sense of ‘safe’ carried. “Really, Princess, you will freeze. Your clothes and hair are wet.”

He made a point to pull out his strongest spicy elixir—the kind even he didn’t like, as it was too hot—and thrust it towards her before she could try and fight him.  
  
Humbled, she took the bottle from him. “So are you.” She made a point to drink half and push it back to him. She could already see him putting up a fight over this, so she cut in before he could, “I command you to drink it.”  
  
Link hesitated but decided he should be really careful with what commands he could just ignore. He did as he was bid. Between the very high quality elixir and the heat of the hot springs, he could feel some of his health regenerate.  
  
They panted at the spice in their mouths while searching the perimeter of the hot springs. Link ventured out of the springs for a few moments at a time, but the sodden clothing pressed to his body was a skin-tight iceblock within seconds.

“Found something!” Zelda cried. Link hurried over to her to find her crouched under a low-hanging rock ceiling, pointing at a weak spot in the wall. It looked like it could be smashed through. Zelda stood back, giving him enough space to swing a claymore at it. It never got any less strange to watch an object bigger than Link disappear into that enchanted pouch.  
  
Before them was a dark cavern.

Something like fear crawled down his arms, despite the hot water.  
  
He glanced at Zelda, but she was already ducking to make her way in. Determined and dauntless, she seemed unafraid of the dark or the unknown. Wordlessly, Link followed in after her.  
  
After a few meters, they could stand upright again. It was punishingly dark in the cave.  
  
Link was just about to equip his flameblade again when Zelda had an idea. She pulled out the slate, turned on the camera, and managed to have better night vision than her eyes could produce. A faint blue glow lit up their faces just enough to see each other.  
  
Able to walk again, Zelda led the way and Link trailed right behind her. He couldn’t scan for threats. He wasn’t even sure how big this space was until Zelda spoke. “Stop.” The echoes indicated the space was a small corridor. “Link, look at this.”  
  
He took the slate, analyzing the faint image it produced as he moved it around. It was… one of those terminals. Like the kind that they saw outside of the shrines. Round, with Shiekah markings, and an eye where the slate would presumably activate it. But there was nothing glowing, no orange light.

Beyond it, a solid wall. No igloo-shaped shrine, just rock. He touched it to make sure.

Confused, he exchanged a glance with Zelda, then pressed the slate to the terminal. Nothing happened.  
  
“Hmm... how strange. Ever since we activated that tower on the Great Plateau, these terminals have been working. Was that not the issue we had with activating them?" Zelda bent at the waist to inspect closer. "Here, let me—Whoa.” Her hand touched the slate, and suddenly the terminal glowed bright orange. Link pulled away in surprise and the light shut off. “Wait, wait, Link. Hold it again.” They found that when they both held the slate to the terminal, it activated. It made a mechanical sound of recognition, took the slate, turned it, then returned it back to them.  
  
The wall glowed in orange stripes and splayed open before them, allowing them entry.  
  
Link was anxious. Zelda was ecstatic. She squealed with joy as she trotted past the barrier, expecting to see the falls laid out in all of their glory. Instead, she saw… more blackness.   
  
“Wha--? Where is the…” She trailed off as Link cleared the barrier. A ghostly voice spoke to them from all directions:

>   
_To you who have travelled into this mountain, I offer you these trials:_
> 
> _In your travels, you’ve relied on the equipment that you’ve found along the way…_
> 
> _Believing yourselves to be self-reliant..._
> 
> _For these trials, you must cast aside your equipment and your pride,_
> 
> _ and face this challenge with nothing but one another to rely on._

The voice fell silent, and the air was pregnant with tension. The orange threshold behind them suddenly slammed shut and both Zelda and Link felt the hand of unconsciousness over their eyes. When they refocused, Zelda felt suddenly much lighter.

Physically lighter. The sodden, hostile clothing she wore was gone and in its wake was indifferently cold air. “Link! The slate!” she gasped.

“I have it.” He had it on his hip, but his korok pouch was nowhere to be found. His clothes were gone as well. He peered through the camera for some heightened vision, following Zelda’s voice. When the camera focused on her, though, Link suddenly tore his eyes away from it like it had burned an image into his retinas.

That’s not too far off from reality.  
  
“Are we both…?”  
  
Link grimaced, doing everything he could to calm his nerves. “Not completely,” he answered for her. This was like Eventide Island. Just a quick set of tasks, a few bad guys disposed, no problem. Focus on the task at hand, Link. His hearing strained for a Hinox snoring. Merciful silence.  
  
“My pack is gone. No weapons, no changes of clothes.” He was doing inventory, completely in survival mode. “We just had that spicy elixir. It should last us a while.” It was very high quality, so even drinking half should give them some time.  
  
Zelda ran her hands over her goose-fleshed arms. Even with the elixir, it was chilly in the cave. It was survivable in their current state, but when the elixir ran out, they’d be in serious danger.

She was at Link’s side, looking to take the slate from him. Their bare shoulders brushed in the dark and Link let out a yelp in surprise. “Sorry. Just me.” She coaxed the slate from his hands and flicked the camera back on, looking around the space.

It was mostly barren. Zelda gleaned that there was some dry brush clinging to the walls. They could find a way to light it, but it would be gone in seconds.

Water dripped from a stalactite. The orange barrier had disappeared and left behind just more of the same rock. “We’re… trapped down here,” Zelda whispered quietly.  
  
Link swallowed a wave of rising panic and spoke steadily, “No, we’re not. We can always teleport out of here together.” He was reminding himself as much as he was reminding her.

“Right,” she murmured. “But we came so far already. We may as well finish the trials and be done with it.” And preferably before the elixir wears off. Link didn’t voice any disapproval. She continued to scan the space, when she noticed an etching on the wall. “Link, come check this out.”  
  
Zelda read the inscription aloud, Link watching just behind her. “The warmth of one will die out; The warmth of two will glow unending.” Zelda cocked her head, mind finally having an ancient puzzle to chew on. “Let’s see… we are going to the fabled Spring of Unity. Therefore, it would stand to reason that these are trials aimed at testing our teamwork.”

She took Link’s silence as encouragement and continued searching for materials. “Warmth of two… it probably means we make a fire together. Link, search for some loose rock. I see some dry brush.” He thought about telling her just how difficult that would be without being able to see but thought better of it. Hands and knees is fine for now.  
  
This space was small, but not so small that it would retain any of their body heat over time. He heard her pulling at some dry foliage, managing to wring it free. All Link found was a shard of what felt like loose granite that might could work.  
  
In terms of testing their teamwork, they would pass this trial with flying colors.  
  
They produced the kindling and stones that theoretically would spark it to life. They worked diligently, taking turns when one tired, repeatedly striking the stones. Finally, a little spark flew into the dry foliage, and Zelda gently blew air to the base.  
  
Cries of joy and relief echoed throughout the cave, and Zelda didn’t know which belonged to whom. She didn’t care. The fire caught and splayed from leaf to dead leaf, illuminating the small space between them. “We did it, Link!” she bounced, a ten-mile grin on her face. “That should complete the… what’s wrong?”  
  
He was staring at her, looking wan and shocked. She glanced behind her, terrified that there was some unseen monster, but there was nothing. She turned back to find Link’s body turned away from her and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. He looked feverish. Confused, she was about to ask, until she looked down at herself illuminated for the first time in the firelight.  
  
_Oh. _Her cold skin strained towards the heat of the flames, nipples pushing so insistently at the fabric of her thin brassiere that they might puncture it. Still wet from the hot springs, the white cloth did little in the way of modesty. It had not helped matters that she was on her hands and knees tending the fire.  
  
Zelda cried out, covering herself with her arms. “Sorry! I—I had a lapse in…” She was going to either say judgement or memory, but found neither applied. She just sat there in embarrassment.  
  
This was probably one of those times Link needed to speak. “It’s fine! Really!” He immediately regretted it; His voice cracked like it hadn’t in years.

Perhaps it was a good thing it was so cold in here. Get a _hold_ of yourself, knight!

The fire began to burn in earnest. They could see all points of the cave chamber now and found it just as barren as before. Now, sans two rocks and some foliage. Quick to change the subject, Zelda searched for the new entrance to the next trial to open up.  
  
But she didn’t find anything. “Um… Link. We started the fire. So…” she glanced down to the weakening embers, already starved for fuel. “Shouldn’t we have passed?”  
  
At this Link did chance a glance back towards the fire. It wouldn’t last more than a minute. “We have nothing else left to burn.”

An idea seemed to occur to them both at once. Zelda toyed with the strap of her bra; Link with the elastic of his waistband. Simultaneously, they muttered to themselves, “No.”  
  
“Link… the fire’s going out. What do we do?”  
  
Link remained silent, his mind working all its gears. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. There’s no way to tell down here. He could only guess at how much time their elixir had left. “Let me see the slate.”  
  
He turned on Magnesis first. Nothing.  
  
Stasis next. Nothing.

Cryonis? Not enough water.

That just left the bombs. “Get behind me,” he said, backing towards one wall, tucking her behind him protectively.  
  
He threw the bomb just far enough away to be safe and pressed detonate. Zelda peeked out behind his shoulder at the darkness as Link pointed the camera at the blast zone.

Nothing had changed.

“Okay, again,” Zelda said, determined.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They’d bombed every inch of the room. They scoured the ceiling, combed the floors, broken stalagmites, and reread the inscription at least ten times. Nothing magnetic. Nothing to freeze in time except, as Zelda had found out by sheer accident, one another. He’d forgive her for that eventually.  
  
Tired and growing desperate, Zelda sat on the cold floor. “There’s nothing in here.” She had that tone. The one Link knew was her dejected tone. Her giving-up voice. It was unsteady, as if she was about to break out into shivers.  
  
Link knew better than to ignore her like this. He came to kneel at her side. They’d gotten so used to the dark that they no longer startled one another when moving around. “We can teleport to the nearest stables. I’ll figure out a way to get the equipment back.”  
  
There was just barely enough light from the slate to see the wry expression on her face. “This seems like something that would be difficult to explain to the townsfolk.” He didn’t see her gesture at them, but knew she’d made it. Honestly, he was having a hard time believing it himself.  
  
He laughed halfheartedly. “That’s the least of our problems at the moment.” He began to reach out, hesitated, watched her eyes. She seemed aware of his hand between them, and he pressed it to her bare shoulder. She flinched a little at the cold but didn’t wheel around to hit him. Before he lost courage, he found her pulse point at her neck, feeling it speed up under his touch.  
  
“Link…?”  
  
“You’re dangerously cold. The elixir’s wearing off, isn’t it?” It wasn’t a question. He could feel it on himself. So with all of the icy cold hair she carried, she must be absolutely freezing. He retracted his hand from her throat and moved towards his own head. He pulled the elastic free from his hair and held it out to her.  
  
She gratefully accepted the hairband and made quick work of getting as much of the freezing hair up off her back as she could. It was literally all that he had to offer her, and he’d given it.  
  
“We can’t leave now… We’re so close.” It sounded strange for her to say that without the same determination in her voice. This is usually the point where he’d begin making camp and diligently working to distract her from the line of thought that he knew was coming.  
  
“Please… Link, I know we should go. Make special elixirs, or something. But I just… I don’t think I can live with myself to leave here a failure.” She sounded so small. Link felt his heart twist in his chest. “Ganon can appear any day. If I left here early j-just because I was c-cold… If I f-fail…”

She wasn’t crying. Worse, she was shivering. Teeth clattering. Full body wracked with tremors.  
  
“L-Link can we p-please stay?”

She left him in an impossible situation. It is his sworn duty to protect her at all costs! Hypothermia is just as much a threat as any monster. He could feel it breathing down his neck. Frigid claws raked his scalp.

However, forcing her to leave prematurely feels cruel. She’s giving everything she has to attain her powers. Selflessly. Purely for the sake of Hyrule.  
  
“Princess Zelda… you’re no good to anyone dead.” He heard his molars clack together despite his best efforts.

Zelda was quiet, and her expression was difficult to make out with the Shiekah slate on the floor. Her tremoring would have made her unreadable even in broad daylight. She mumbled something that even in the silence he couldn’t decipher.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Warmth of one will die out… two will glow forever.” She’d heard it so many times in her mind, it was meaningless. However, something sideways passed her mind. “You’re r-right, Link. I’m n-no good to anyone dead. Neither are y-you.” He couldn’t follow her logic. Maybe it was because he was distracted by being so cold. “The voice s-said… something about casting p-pride and equipment aside. Only e-each other.”

Zelda was staring at him. He could feel the heat of her gaze even through the layers of darkness and cold. His anxiety certainly didn’t settle when she said, “Don’t pull away, okay?”

_What?_

He felt her frigid palm in the center of his chest as she slid into the crook of his arm. At first, it hardly registered that he was holding anything human. More parts fish than person. Their skin were strangers at first. But once they’d made acquaintance with one another, a warmth bloomed and synergized between them. They both desperately needed it for survival.  
  
Even still, even in _this_ exact situation, Link was determined to be knightly. Zelda felt that his hands hovered in the air, purposefully not touching her. “P-Princess—I don’t think I… We—”  
  
Exasperated, Zelda cut in. "Link. I'm freezing. We're both freezing."

Link didn’t have to interject King Roam into his mind, but the image of his stern face intruded nonetheless. Link let out a high whimper of fear, like a wolf shot with an arrow. “I could face execution for--”  
  
Zelda laughs against his chest, just a change in breathing. “You’re being melodramatic.” When the violent tremors stopped, she reassessed the survivability of the situation as it was. Her torso had enough heat to keep all major functions working, but her fingers and toes were numb, heavy pebbles. She knew she could eventually lose them.  
  
Her body moved independent of her mind, searching for warmth like a reptile seeks the sun. Her hand trailed across his chest and slipped into his free armpit, delighted at the new warmth. Link hissed at the jolt of cold, “P-Princess!” That did exactly nothing to slow her down as she twisted one of her legs through his, feet seeking what little warmth his calves had left.

  
She made a happy little noise in relief, and the best of his efforts were getting him exactly nowhere. “You’re my knight. It’s your duty to protect me. I order you to protect me from the cold.” It's very hard for Link to argue that. Commanded to allow this, he slowly felt himself relaxing into the beguiling bubble of warmth they’d built for themselves. “Link, relax. It is so cold in here, it is humanly impossible for anything… untoward to happen.”  
  
_Well, you say that._

His hand slowly, so gingerly, came to rest on her shoulder. That seemed good enough to her for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hot springs mentioned in this story actually exist in the game. :) It's called Goflam's Secret Hot Springs.


	3. Secrets

~*~*~*~*~*~

They say you should never give in to sleep when you’re cold. Why did he only remember it just as he woke up?

It was still complete, vantablack darkness. A wonderful warmth permeated through his chest, left stripes of heat on his back, managed to reach into the outskirts of his toes.  
  
He sighed, contented. That is, until something tickled his nose. He sniffed it away, but it came back.

It was… hair?

Who’s hair? Then it all came rushing back to him at once: The hot springs, the cave, the riddle. Zelda tucking herself under his arm. Her on her hands and knees, beaming a huge smile at him from across the fire…  
  
The mass in his arms murmured and twisted, hips jolting his. Link had to bite his fist to keep from crying out. “Mmph… quit it,” growled Zelda. Her arm across his back twitched fingers ticklishly back and forth. That _certainly_ wasn’t helping!

Link carefully, oh so carefully, extricated himself from her grasp, much to Zelda’s displeasure.

Finding the slate and flipping on the camera, he stared around the room. The inscription was gone. Where it once had been was another expanse of darkness. An opening?

“Princess…” he urged, shaking her shoulder. She breathed deeply, indicating she was awake. His urgency had triggered rising panic.

“Link? What—”

“You were right. We passed the trial.” They found each other in the dark again, and Link demonstrated his discovery by pointing it at the missing inscription. She didn’t seem to get it straight away. Too much dark layered on dark.

He moved into the opening, letting the jolts of adrenaline wake him up. He listened for monster howls, for Hinox snores, for the rumbling of a Talus. Only silence and the occasional drip-drip of water.

Link felt her following just behind him. They felt their way through a winding, narrow passageway. A turquoise light glimmered at the end. Zelda could hear water! They must have done it!

They trotted towards the light and turned the corner hard. Both had to shield their eyes from the bright blue glow stretching their pupils too suddenly. “What is… Whoa!” The threshold slammed to a close just behind Zelda, nearly clipping her heels.

This space was larger than the last, but only just so. The only light-source was the aquamarine pool taking the lynel’s-share of the room. Glittering snakes of lights danced and writhed on the ceilings. Steamy clouds of heat puffed invitingly from the warm waters.

Before Link could warn her not to, Zelda was already slipping into the water, sighing in relief. Sleeping on the hard stone, shivering, had not been kind to the kink in her neck.

Ever the gentleman, Link studiously didn’t watch her. He was more focused on the inscription on the wall opposite him. It was positioned in a place where a door would logically go.

> “_Only when the Hero and the Princess demonstrate…_
> 
> _The vulnerability to receive_
> 
> _And the courage to give_
> 
> _Will the path forward be revealed.”_

Meaning didn’t jump out at Link. He rubbed his temples, deciding that maybe Zelda had the right idea after all. He had a knot in his shoulder the size of a Keese. He picked a spot as far away from her as possible and dipped his toe, then his whole self into the delightfully hot spring.  
  
He hadn’t been fully warmed in weeks. Link allowed himself a moment of indulgence. A happy little sigh followed him under the water. He came back up for breath a new man.  
  
Zelda, on the far side of the spring, was working the hairband out of her tangled, frost-damaged hair. “What do you think it means?”

He gave the exact minimum amount of eye contact he deemed polite for the situation before staring hard at the inscription. Link couldn’t seem to get anything concrete from it.  
  
“Mm,” Zelda hummed thoughtfully. “It sounds like one of us is supposed to get a present for the other.” Even as she said it, it didn’t sound like she believed herself. She watched him rub the knot from his shoulder, unaware of her gaze.  
  
The band finally came free, with no small number of hair casualties. Thoughtfully, she picked at it. “As it turns out, I actually have a present for you.” She sank a little lower, giving permission for him to look at her. “I will now demonstrate the courage to give.”  
  
He cocked his head at her just in time for her to lock the hair-tie over her thumb and sling-shot it directly between his eyes. Link started, dazed, searching for what hit him.

He found it. Bubbles gave away Zelda’s laughter just below the surface, her shark-eyes staring at him. She lifted just a little to say, “And thank you for demonstrating the vulnerability to receive.”

Mischievous! He considered crossing the pool to get her back somehow and very nearly did just that. However, that would hardly be appropriate in a sparring match, let alone a state of undress. Instead, he tied back his hair methodically, not breaking eye contact with her.

“Thank you, Princess.”

Satisfied with herself, Zelda leaned back and worried the dirt free from under her nails. “I’m surprised that didn’t work,” she hummed, not surprised at all.

Link decided to let her have a victory and went back to massaging the twisted muscles in his shoulder. The hot water helped, but it was made of stubborn stuff. Working it hurt in a good way.

“Since we obviously don’t have anything to _give_ one another,” Zelda thought out loud, “Maybe it has nothing to do with an object. Like how the last one had nothing to do with a fire.”  
  
Link seemed to indicate that made sense. “What could it be, then?”

Zelda’s mind was working. “It can’t be something easy to give. ‘Courage’ and ‘vulnerability’?” She pondered this, feet kicking just under the surface. “Maybe it’s a secret?” Link’s face expressed how obvious that was. All riddles are secrets. “No, no, maybe we’re supposed to tell each other a secret. Courage to give, vulnerability to receive?”

More comfortable with the exchange, Link rested his arms on the ledge behind him. He couldn’t tell if Zelda was lost in thought or outright staring at him. “It’s worth a try. You go first.”

The princess balked, put on the spot. With some considerable amount of thought, she settled on one not too mortifying. “Alright, then… Sometimes when you’re asleep, I’ll double check that you’re really out, and then sneak off for a walk alone in the woods.” She didn’t seem too proud of this.

She was shocked at how _not_ shocked he was. Something just this side of superior glittered in his eye. “My secret is that already knew that.” Her scandalized expression only bolstered him further. “I’d wait until you were done inspecting me and thought you were alone, change into my Shiekah outfit, and tail y-- Hey!”

He raised his arm to deflect a splash of water to the face.

“You’re telling me I didn’t have a moment of privacy the entire time I’ve been your charge?”

“Wha-No! No, I didn’t invade your privacy!” He searched for the right words, tripping over himself in the process. “You just didn’t have… too much.” That sounded lame even to him. Link winced at her withering stare.

She crossed her arms over her chest in such an intimidating way that he nearly forgot about their whole situation. Her eyebrow cocked at him: A challenge.

He could feel her staring straight into his soul.

Could he shrink himself any smaller?

“Gerudo Town, too?”

Turns out, yes, he could. Link stared at the wall, chagrinned.

Her silence was bludgeoning. She was patient, and just waited for him to start talking. Finally cowed, he gave in, “Yes.”

“How?”

His face flamed in embarrassment. “I… dressed up as a Vai to get access and watch the area outside your quarters. I-I knew you wanted space from me, but I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” He scrubbed his face, knowing just how creepy that sounds. “That was the only reason I knew about the Yiga Clan’s plan to assassinate you.”  
  
_As if that exonerates you_, her green eyes glowered.  
  
She was still waiting for him to explain. There was more that she knew. What was it? Confusion flickered on his face until a thought hit him sidelong. “Wait… you don’t…” He swallowed, definitely nervous. She remained patient as ever, which is to say, not at all.

“I swear I didn’t understand that… weapons shop. They looked very ineffective. Didn’t think much of it at the time.” Link considered the benefits of hypoxia from drowning himself here. Zelda’s eyes bulged. “But later I heard you cry out from your room…” An accusation was forming on her lips and he waved his hands vigorously, “I thought you were in danger! It’s my duty to protect you!”  
  
Zelda’s face was aflame. Cold was never even a memory to her. “How long did you stand outside that door?”

Link couldn’t meet her eye, casting a hangdog expression at the wall. _Guilty. _“Just long enough to realize you weren’t in danger.”

Somehow, she managed to have a superior expression, like she knew something he didn’t. “Friendly reminder, Link: The fate of Hyrule rests with your honesty to that question. Are you sure that’s your answer?”

Link rubbed the back of his head nervously. “Long enough to realize you weren’t in danger… then long enough to figure out what was happening.”

Zelda sensed that he was being truthful. _Long enough_ was the gist of it. She gestured to the wall with the inscription and said to it, “We did your trial. Is this not sufficient?”

The wall stared back, uncaring.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They were stumped. They tossed ideas back and forth for what seemed like hours. Maybe they were supposed to give each other advice? Maybe a compliment? Cooking tips? A high-five? 

“None of those worked... What could it be? I feel that we were closer with our first attempt.” Zelda said, reclining against the cool stone wall to watch the inscription do nothing, as always. Her feet splashed thoughtfully in the spring. Link quirked his head to indicate he was listening but wouldn’t look her way without her completely submerged from view.

As endearing as this quality could be in small doses, it definitely made a conversation with him more annoying.

“It’s something that takes courage to _give_ and vulnerability to _receive. _Secrets take courage to give, but not exactly vulnerability to receive…” She couldn’t tell if he was following her or not. “Maybe it’s constructive criticism.”

That actually got Link to look her way, if only for a split second. It was clear that the idea made him nervous. He’d rather go back to secrets.

“I’m not keen on it either, really. But I can’t think of anything else.” Link sighed, defeated. He made a gesture that vaguely indicated he wanted her to go first. That’s a real stand-up move.

“Okay. Um…” she wasn’t fishing for insults, not that she had any with teeth anyway. Constructive criticism requires crafting hands, not snapping fangs. “I find your knightly demeanor to be an endearing quality.” She could see him straining against his self-imposed bonds not to look at her. “You are ever-professional, protective, competent, and gentlemanly beyond reproach.”

Link’s face warmed considerately at the genuine praise, finding himself reduced back to bashful in seconds. When he thinks ‘constructive criticism’ he thinks royal guard boot camps, not this.  
  
“That said…” Zelda continued, finally bringing down the boot. “It’s an endearing quality _in moderation_. Nearly freezing to death because you’re too knightly to share a tent? Being within earshot of my room in the most heavily guarded place in Hyrule?” She paused, trying to catch his eye, with moderate success. “Inability to meet my eyes while having a conversation?”

Zelda considered kicking the dog some more, until Link sighed heavily. He got the message. Slowly, so slowly, he made a point of turning himself fully towards her, unwaveringly meeting her eyes. He presented his hands in a gesture of surrender.

The amount of willpower he summoned to look at her face-- just her face-- was evident. Zelda rewarded him wish a charmed smile, “Thank you, Sir Knight.”

Just like that, all the perfectly manicured non-expression disappeared. His face flushed an impossible shade of scarlet and he ducked his head under the water with a splash. Zelda laughed to herself and decided not to scold him. It’s impossible to be cross with him when he looked like _that_. She crossed her arms and folded one knee atop the other if just for a sliver more modesty.

The silence was companionable but not comfortable.

Zelda was about to prompt him to complete the inscription from his end. The look in his eye stopped her.

_Nervous._

Not because of anything inane. He was chewing on an idea. Words were evading him.

“Link,” Zelda says gently. Like coaxing a scared animal. “Whatever it is, you can just say it. You may speak freely here.”

Link nodded, then swallowed.

“Okay. I think you… don’t give yourself enough credit.” He was choosing his words very carefully, unable to keep her intense gaze. “You give every ounce of yourself to fulfilling a destiny without regard for your health. Yet you think every… obstacle is just a personal failure.”

Zelda opened her mouth to speak, but Link held up his hand. It was the first time he’d ever silenced her.

“You have such faith in the Goddess Hylia but have no faith in yourself. That… is impossible. As I understand it, you _are_ Hylia, in a new form. Having no faith in Zelda is the same as not having faith in Hylia.”

Zelda’s fists clenched. The hot springs grew hotter with the rising of her ire.

Link just looked earnest.

‘“How dare you suggest I have no faith in the Goddess?” she hissed to the back of her own eyelids.

Link didn’t defend himself. His silence spoke more.

“Everything… I’ve done everything. Sacrificed everything. To _be_ this figure. The Princess. I cannot just summon false confidence in powers I don’t have! That’s reckless. _Negligent. _Hyrule depends on me. I—” Her outrage gave way to despair before his eyes.

Link allowed her the space of a few thoughts, then spoke again. “What do you think are the chances that you do actually have your powers, but are only able to use them against Ganon? You’d have no way to know until he returns.”

Zelda remained silent. Link watched her knitted eyebrows slowly unravel. _You may be eating yourself alive over a failure you anticipate, not the reality of the situation._

Finally, she ventures, “I suppose I wouldn’t.” Her mind was turning over and over behind her eyes. “So… that is to say, that you believe I’ve already accessed my powers. Just because I cannot wield them at will does not mean I will fail against Ganon.” A matter of faith. Faith in not just Hylia, or the Destiny, but also in herself.

This earned her a kind smile from the knight. She smiled at her hand skimming the velvet surface of the water; A shy gesture.

Finally, the silence was companionable and comfortable.

Link eyed the inscription on the wall, making no discernable change even though they had presumably just completed the trial.

Zelda sighed, two steps from discouraged.


	4. Trial of Heat

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
“I wonder what the purpose of the Unity trials is,” Zelda thought out loud. Link had gotten proficient at giving her enough eye contact when she spoke without letting his more unseemly impulses escape his iron cage of self-control.

“That is, why have them at all?” She was completely out of the spring to cool off, hugging her knees thoughtfully. “The other three Springs were open-air. There was no reason I couldn’t access them alone. But here… the terminal only activated when we both held the slate. The first trial involved sharing body heat. Now this? Why is it so explicitly a team effort?”  
  
Link pushed the thought around for a while, finding nothing. Zelda continued, “I wonder… Maybe that’s the final element needed to access my power at will. Teamwork.”

He pushed himself half-out of the springs, feet dangling in the water. “I… don’t know how I could possibly help you with that.”

“I’m not sure either,” she mumbled, staring into him like she might lock him in stasis to study him in detail. “All of the prophecies and stories are Hero-and-the-Princess. Princess-and-the-Hero. I thought our roles worked separate, but in tandem: You defeat, I seal. Perhaps that’s not it.”

She clearly had an idea forming, but Link couldn’t begin to guess at what.

“This is just a theory… The previous trial required us to work together to achieve the same thing.” _That’s the most tactful way that she could have put it, _Link thought. “Not just the same goal, but actually _helping_ the other achieve it, too. Maybe focusing on fitting our individual roles is the wrong approach.”

Link clearly wanted her to spell it out. “The Trials are designed to foster teamwork, or mutual support, right? I think we have to help each other meet a need that we can't on our own. ‘Courage to give, vulnerability to receive.’ It might be some allegory for helping the other achieve their destinies!”

She seemed proud of herself, and Link wasn’t one to rain on parades. “Do you have any ideas?”

Zelda cocked her head at him appreciatively. “Mm... yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” Anxiety suddenly shot through him as she made a sudden movement and splashed into the hot spring. Link instinctively suctioned his back to the wall. Zelda was standing in the chest-height water. He meticulously kept his eyes on hers, and not on her breasts floating at the surface. Why did he hear the sound of iron bending?

“Princess… what’re you…?”

No matter how hard he scrunched closed his eyes, he could still see her, still hear that soft giggle of amusement as she approached. He nearly flung her clear across the room when she placed her hand softly on his wrist. “Easy,” she laughed. “I’m not doing anything.”

His eyes shot open like a spooked horse.

She was gently urging him to rejoin her in the water. Suspiciously, he scoured her for nefarious intent and when he found none, did as he was asked. “You’re still in pain from before, right? You had a knot in your shoulder.” _Oh. _He thinks he understood.

Trained to be ever without complaint, Link denied it on habit alone. She saw right through him. Her hands on his shoulders gently guided him to turn away from her (which was probably for the best) and he diligently thought about King Rhoam Bosphoramus. No, Bokoblin hands! Ugly, mauve appendages, searching his back, appraising each muscle scrupulously.

All thoughts of Bokoblins and Kings slipped from his mind when she found the knot.  
  
“Ah!” he cried out, wincing at the pain.

“Found it,” she murmured to herself victoriously, focused on her work. She clearly didn’t know what she was doing, but the healing hot spring smoothed over any mistakes she made. Link saw black edges to his vision and turned to a Link-shaped blob under her hands.

Having a task to accomplish helped Zelda adjust to this new, unlikely scenario. She learned that he was so strong, she needed to apply force to get anything done; Too much force, though, he would flinch away.

She tried something different with her thumbs and was surprised at the low moan of pleasure she elicited from her knight.

Something mischievous in the corner of her mind whispered to do it again.

_What was that?!_

This situation was growing less and less worthy of Hylia’s blessing by the moment. Nervous, Zelda resorted to thinking aloud. That always seemed to soothe her. “Hopefully this will fulfil the trial. The voice from before informed us we must cast aside pride and rely only on each other. I can’t think of anything more testing of our… pride?”

She faltered. Link cast a sidelong glance at her over his shoulder. It was unreadable. She thought for a moment he was about to shrug her off and demand personal space. Instead, he just crossed his arms on the stone and leaned his head against them.

He’d never looked so relaxed or vulnerable.

There’s no helping the soft smile on her face as she set back to work. The worst of the twisted muscle had unlocked, but a stubborn nub refused to open. For fear of hurting him, she opted to use the heel of her hand and slide it across with the goldilocks amount of force.

This action grazed her breasts against his back. The muscles under her hands all jumped in unison, tensed like a hackled wolf. He made a noise of distress that he quickly tried to swallow.

_That sound._ Evilly, she wanted to do it again.

Link felt fingernails drag ticklishly down his spine and it took all of his self-restraint not to surge forward into the rock. _What was she doing?! _Did she even know what she was doing? Or was he really misreading an innocent exchange? It’s exceedingly difficult to suss reality from warped fantasy at this point. Something was chewing the iron bars of his will.

That tension was stolen away from him as that hand locked on his hip, working the sinewy muscle of his lower back.

Innocent, he decided. He really needs to batten down the hatches here. However, it’s impossible to be on defense and relaxed at once. He was acutely aware of his change in breathing, and diligently focused on evening it out.

Not that it would last. Zelda’s hands moved back up the curve of him to his neck, trailing circles into the cords. He couldn’t catch the mortifying sound he made at that.

Maybe the Goddess would grant him mercy now and electrocute him. Better than having to explain _this_ to the King.

To his surprise, he heard a _giggle_. Like she was suppressing it. Surely, she wasn’t evil, was she?

He had his doubts. Zelda seemed to be learning from his involuntary feedback, repeating and chasing techniques she’d picked up along the way. He hadn’t realized just how much stress his body physically carried for him.

Zelda’s thigh brushed against the back of his.

_ Moblin snouts. Hinox snoring. Lynel beards._

She hummed a sound to herself, pleased with her results. _Was she doing that on purpose?_ Was she pleased that she was actually helping Link with a pain, or was she knowingly _causing_ him a different pain entirely? Link couldn’t tell.

Link choked on a sob.

She gathered his floating hair and smoothed it to the side. Tingles ran down his spine and he visibly shivered.

_ Kilton yelling about how much he loves monsters._

Zelda had to change angles to work a particular knot. She shifted to his side, and Link was acutely aware of his bicep between her breasts.

_ Yawning Molduga jaws._

It wasn’t working.

The twist of his lower abdomen greedily sapped his mind of precious resources.

_ King Rhoam eating a roasted bird leg._

This is bad.

_ Zelda’s slim fingers at the nape of his neck._

Link let out a wounded whimper, grinding his forehead to his arms and his hips forward into the stone. The friction both helped and hurt.

_The sounds on the other side of the door._

Link felt a burst of hot air in his ear: Zelda’s voice. “What is it, Link?” So soft.

Kittenish.

Evil.

She knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

Breathing raggedly, Link passed a baleful glower over his shoulder directly into her eyes. It was a warning shot.

_You’re playing with fire._

Zelda met his gaze. Something glittered in her green eyes, but Link wasn’t entirely sure what it was. A challenge? Fear? Delight? A combination of the three?

Without breaking her gaze, she pressed a thumb into a knot and deftly worked it. He could see just a hint of a smirk on her face before his eyes rolled back without his say-so. A low groan rumbled bass through both of their chests.

Was she really trying to break him? Or did she just want to know if the ever self-controlled knight even possessed a breaking point at all?

Link wasn’t sure which was better.

He bit the flesh of his forearm, writhing in agony as the iron bars of his will warped and creaked. He’s strong. Incredibly strong, determined, and controlled. He was the Hero of Hyrule! He had to be. But she was just… trying to get a rise out of him! For her own entertainment!

It was the first time he’d seen Zelda acting purely in her own interest.

Of _course_ he had to be the subject of a scholar’s bottomless curiosity.

She grew brazen, moving with no regard to where her hips were. Fingers experimented with the muscle just behind his ear. She was toying with him! For _fun_?!

His blood went from howling to screaming. Was he going mad? He shrank his hips away from her and into the stone once more, acquiescing to his body’s incessant demand for _something. _Anything! He tried to reason with the cursed meat-prison: If you break, you’ll be executed. Hyrule is doomed.

The meat-prison answered: That’s fine.

He felt betrayed by his own body. Zelda’s hand slipped down his spine with just the _faintest _hint of nails, sending jolts of electricity to every superheated nerve. Then she flattened her palm just above the too-tight elastic of his shorts and did the unthinkable: _She pushed forward. _

The unexpected pressure on his groin made everything tighten painfully. His breath hissed in through his teeth. The guise of holding him still to get a nearby knot was flimsy at best.

Sweat trailed down his nose and dripped onto the stone floor.

The spring water was too hot. Way, way too hot.

She was winning.

Frustration boiled in his blood. Zelda was just using him to satiate some morbid curiosity! Intentionally testing to see where his line was. Did she have any idea how maddening this was for him? Stuck between desire and duty? It’s cruel!

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Zelda,” he growled. The unhesitant use of her name gave her pause. His eyes were on hers, narrowed, heated, _hungry_. Despite the ragged heaving of his chest he managed to grind out evenly, “You are being _exceptionally_ unkind.”

Taken aback, Zelda retracted her hands, searching his face. She had the audacity to seem surprised at his reaction. Link held steadfast, daring her to try and gaslight him or tell him he was overreacting. He saw through her too well for that to work. His moral highground gave him just enough courage to turn halfway towards her and levy her with the full weight of his gaze.

Tense silence.

_You wanted to know if I had a breaking point? Well, you found it. Now what?_

Zelda’s eyes darted over every inch of his expression, receiving the message loud and clear. Wordlessly, her eyes answered for her, _Great question._

The gears whirred behind her eyes. This was a decision point for her, and she had to make a call. She was thinking. Getting an idea. Somehow, Link’s anxiety ticked up another notch. That cannot be a good sign.

To his everlasting terror, her eyes narrowed salaciously and she replied in her most royal, haughty voice, “I’ll remind you that I am under no special obligation to be kind to you, _knight._”

Her emphasis on the last word cracked a firewhip straight to his groin.

Link ground his teeth. She clearly got a perverse pleasure from seeing him suffer. Did she not understand his warning? He couldn’t have been much clearer. This isn’t like tinkering with one of the Guardians, seeing if X action gets you Y result. He’s a _person!_  
  
There was no hiding his body’s reaction to her. At this point, he was strained to even care. What he could control, however, was the perfect non-action he took. Stoicism has gotten him this far. Maybe he could use it to survive this yet.

She was the Princess. He was her Knight. She had every privilege to treat him how she saw fit, and he had no choice but to accept it. If she insisted on treating him like a science project, that was her prerogative. So long as he didn’t act beyond his bounds, he was okay.

Zelda wore a face like she was trying to solve a riddle.

As it turns out, that’s exactly what she was doing. Her lips murmured something, and he slammed his eyes shut not to watch them move. “I… think I may know how to solve the trial.”  
  
This got him curious enough to peek out at her. She still wore a puzzled expression. “I think… I’ll be quite embarrassed if I’m wrong.” She worried her lip.

Link clearly didn’t follow. He contemplated exiting the spring and trying to rid himself of the painful ache before they try tackling the inscription again. He eyed the rock wall where the exit had once been. _Right. _He’s trapped in here. He wouldn’t have any privacy to accomplish just that…

It was definitely a mistake to take his attention off of her, even for a moment.

Link yelped at something grazing his thigh. His immediate instinct kicked in and he grabbed her wrist hard, stilling her. They made eye contact, Zelda sending not-threat messages telepathically. _Trust me._ Confused, Link slowly unwound his grip on her wrist.

He understood when there was a tug on the holster of the Shiekah slate. She pulled it from him and began tampering with the screen. Then, satisfied, she handed it back to him.

It was the map. The Myahm Agana shrine selected. The one next to his home in Hateno Village.

Confusion littered his expression. She seemed nervous but forced herself to speak regardless. “If you want to leave, we can. At any point, we'll stop. You can just teleport us out of here. No questions asked.”

Something heavy like dread settled in his stomach. “W-What are you going to do?”

Zelda tried to answer his question. She really did. Words evaded her, but the dredges of deviousness still lingered in her eyes. Is she thinking…?

When Zelda isn’t talking, that’s the time Link should be most concerned.

She set the slate on the stone next to him, one hand out reached for his chest. He made no move to stop her; He made no movements at all. He was a Link-shaped statue. The expression on her face was focused, curious, but she wasn’t toying with him.

She encroached further into his personal space, hips just hovering just out of reach of his groin. His heart hammered against his ribcage so hard the bones creaked. “Princess…?” His hands hovered everywhere but her.

Her eyebrows furrowed at him. “Courage to give, vulnerability to receive,” she murmured. He watched her eyes shift from his, to his lips, then back up.  
  
_She couldn’t possibly be thinking…_

“Link, kiss me.”

The beating in his chest froze in stasis.

“Wha—"

“Link, I really think that’s the answer to the riddle.” Her face was flushed in a way that unequipped any thoughts that he could counter her with. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders and throat and flared on the surface.

With the very conspicuous lack of blood-flow to his brain, he couldn’t work out if that made sense or not. Was his body just playing tricks on his mind? Vulnerability to receive, courage to give. The words were exhausted of meaning at that point.

Zelda’s sincere, vulnerable eyes watched him.

“I…” He swallowed, tried again, “I’m your knight… I couldn’t—” It sounded as weak as it felt to say it.

Under the threat of execution and leaving Hyrule to its demise, how could he possibly say yes? The hand on his chest gently slid lower onto his abdomen. A surge of liquid desire shot right through him. _Oh, that’s how._

He watched Zelda’s face flash her thoughts across it without a hint of opacity: Devious pleasure at his reaction, then determination, realization, and finally disappointment.

_Disappointment?_

She let her hand drift off him under the water. “Right. Of course. I’m not sure why I believed that to be the case. Why would a shrine ask that of us, anyway?” She forced a laugh at her own expense. “I’m not sure what came over me.”

Even in the hot spring, her sadness felt like a bucket of ice-water.

She shrugged her arms free of his hands so she could cross one over her chest. Her free hand reached for the Shiekah slate. “Let’s just go. We can go back to Hateno Village and get—”

Before Link could even think, he’d already spoken, “Wait.”

Zelda stopped, confused. Her eyes drifted to where his hand wrapped around her wrist. When did he grab her?

After a heartbeat-long eternity, she tipped her head expectantly at him.

“I…” Don’t know what to say. With what fragmented bits of sanity he could collect, he tried to focus. He took a deep breath, the first full inhale in what felt like hours, and exhaled shakily.

“Your idea makes sense. It could work…” He released her wrist to rake his hand through his scalp. “I-I just…”

Does he stay true to his knight’s honor? Or does he break the rule not to consort with his charge to protect Hyrule? He never thought he’d have to choose.

How does he tactfully explain that he has been pushed well past what he thought was his breaking point? That even the slightest misstep could lead to his willpower crumbling? That the pressure on his shoulders was crippling? That he no longer trusts himself?

He sighed, a tense sound. The Spring could be just on the other side of the wall. He’d be kicking himself for the rest of his life for not having proper perspective. Or maybe, for not saying yes when he had the chance.

They searched each other, both failing to read the other’s mind.

Link’s throat worked. Zelda couldn’t help watching it.

Link finally broke the silence. “Okay.”

Zelda was genuinely surprised. "What?"

He was too, honestly. Maybe her constructive criticism had landed somewhere he hadn’t noticed.

"Okay. We'll try it."

Before he lost courage, Link reached out and thumbed a lock of her hair in the water. Zelda smiled at the endearing, nervous little gesture. He waged his own inner battle.

Finally, a side won. Link pressed into her personal space and thumbed at her collarbone. Bursts of heat emanated from wherever their skin touched, boiling the water around them. Their hearts were beating so hard they rippled the water.

She shivered as he tucked the wet hair behind her ear. He leaned in, their noses touching. Warm breath on warm skin made warm water unbearable. He was giving her one last chance to pull away, to change her mind. Or, maybe, he was giving himself one last chance.

The amount of self-restraint he used was evident on his face.

She couldn’t help smiling into the space between them. It really was endearing. She whispered, “Twenty rupees that it works.”

Link let out a laugh, relieved she broke some of the tension. He shook his head and rumbled, “You’re on.”

Then he closed the space between them.


	5. Restraint

~*~*~*~*~*~

So much for a knight’s honor.

Any semblance of control he had wrested back from his body vanished.

Instead, it assaulted him with an overwhelming amount of information: The impossible softness of her lips; The steam burning his lungs; The earthy smell of cave and spring and Zelda’s skin like fresh rain; Her fingernails tightening on his arms; The soft sound of surprise in her throat; His blood roiling in the molten heat of the water; The sweat rivulets trailing down his face; Wet clothes chafing skin; Minerals and salt on his tongue.

Keeping himself in check was like holding two magnets a hair’s width apart.

Magma licked at the burdened iron bars of his will, threatening to melt it.

The barrage on his senses stripped him of every thought, except one: _Stay still_.

Don’t move.

Not a single muscle.

He only needed to fulfil the trial. That’s his duty as Hero of Hyrule, no more. It’s morally inadmissible to take advantage of this situation. Of _her._

_You’re not allowed to enjoy this._

Their lips separated just enough for Zelda to speak. “Link…” It was a sound of complaint.

A strangled noise twisted his throat. Her breasts molded to the hard lines of his chest, so beguilingly soft. Maintaining control was like trying to keep two tectonic plates from colliding.

She didn’t pull away, only hovered tantalizingly within his reach, lips brushing his own.

He ground a layer off his molars.

Zelda opened her eyes to look at him, seeing his pained expression. It was like kissing a statue.

Even with the discouraging inaction, his body told no lies to her. She thought that she’s beginning to understand the Hero of Hyrule better.

Maybe he truly didn’t possess a breaking point. If that was the case, she had nothing to lose.

Her hands drifted under the water, one seizing one of his narrow hips and the other tentatively mapping the topography of his abdomen. The flesh beneath her fingers quivered.

Link hissed in his breath.

That evil little voice in Zelda’s mind purred.

“You’re never going to complete the trial like this, Link.”

She slipped one of her legs between his and leaned her weight against him, pinning him to the stone. Link let out a groan of pleasure that surprised them both. That _pressure._ He desperately wanted more, and his hips jolted back at her involuntarily.

It shocked her just how powerfully that hit her. Roiling heat pooled in her, thrumming to the tune of her heart.

“Princess…” he whined. “I… I can’t…” He tried to turn his head away to look at the inscription again.

Can’t what, exactly?

She acted like she hadn’t heard him. Her nose trailed along his jaw until she found herself tasting the leaping pulse point on his throat. She moaned at the salt and the very _Link_ taste. The erection trapped between them jumped, and he did something she’d never heard the knight do before:

“Oh, _fuck_,” he cursed.

She pulled back enough to catch his eye. His hands still hadn’t moved on her. He looked agonized.

“Kiss me back,” she pleaded.

A finger toyed with the elastic on his waistband. It slipped just under, drawing little hearts on his skin.

For a moment, Link thought this would all end right then and there in a humiliating mess. He’s only a person.

Her lips brushed against his. “_Please.”_

That was it.

The iron split in two, sending shards flying in all directions.

With a low growl, Link surged forward. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. The other fisted in her hair. She grasped onto him desperately for purchase as his sudden force threw them to the other side of the spring. She'd seen him move that fast before, but had never been the subject of such predatory precision. Her gasp of surprise was captured in his mouth.

A wave of displaced water spilled out onto the rock. She was pinned with her back to the rock ledge, legs wrapped around his hips, meeting every heated kiss with the full brunt of her torrid desire.

He ground hard against her core and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, swallowing Zelda’s loud moan whole. She lunged and parried him, a dizzying battle of tongues with the threat of heat-stroke looming over them. They tasted lingering spice in one another.

It wasn’t enough. The clothes between them chafed in the water. His hands slid up her outer thighs, holding her in place.

Zelda’s hands raked his hair. A shiver of electricity cut him to the quick.

She squeezed her legs around him tighter. The low bass of his groan rippled the water.

_All those times she walked in front of him in those tight riding pants._

_The way her hips moved to accommodate her steed’s canter._

_Crawling forward to catch a frog._

_Hands and knees, giving him a huge smile across the fire._

_What he imagined her doing with that that "ineffective weapon" in Gerudo Town._

Every moment and repressed memory and shameful fantasy surfaced at once to cudgel him. His eyes rolled back. Desire clawed painfully through his abdomen.

They broke apart for air, but would never be able to catch their breaths. Link trailed kisses down her neck, sucking on the elegant line of her collarbone. One hand supported her by her behind while the other trailed down her stomach, towards where she needed him most.

Finally, Link was prepared to give it to her.

Her breath hitched. “Link,” she whimpered.

A sudden noise startled them both. His fingers stopped at the thin layer of fabric.

Fear froze them in place.

_What was that?_

The wall opposite roared with the scrape of rock on rock, dousing them both with cold water. Spooked, they listened, then turned to see that the inscription on the wall had become an exit.

The spell broke. In the space of a moment they realized that there was a world that existed outside the surface area of their tiny bubble.

All at once, it seemed to hit Link what had just happened. The scandalous position he held her in. The heaving of her breasts. Zelda’s dilated pupils. The siren song their bodies sang to each other.

He released her and was immediately out of the spring, leaning against the cool wall and breathing heavily. “Holy _Hylia…”_ He raked his hand through his disheveled hair.

What was that?!

Zelda was on the other side of the room, trying to draw as much cold in from the stone as fast as possible.

What in Nayru had just _happened_?

Their breathing overtook the silence, with neither daring a glance at the other.

The exit in the wall watched them, apathetic.

Zelda let out a shuddering exhale, “I— Uh.”

“Yeah,” he answered, voice a broken thing. He hunched over, forehead pressed into the stone, panting.

Zelda glanced at the cave opening. “I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead.”

Zelda lingered for a moment longer than she had to. “Are you…?”

He gave her a thumbs up without looking at her.

_Fine. Dandy. Thanks!_

Zelda slipped out into the corridor, leaving Link to fester in his thoughts.

Never before has Link so royally fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your wonderful feedback! It redoubles my enthusiasm for this story <3


	6. Alone

~*~*~*~*~*~

Zelda really needed a moment alone to process what just happened.

She hurried through the stone hallway, heedless of the darkness. The Sheikah slate was forgotten at the lip of the hot springs, so she felt her way along the walls with her hands. The natural rock grew smooth and polished under her fingertips the further she went.

What came over her in there?

The residual heat of Link’s lips lingered on hers; The vibrations of his chest through hers still registered on her richter scale; Silence rang with the sound of his choked whines of pleasure; The memory of his navel quivering under her fingers left them shaking.

Her body still sought him out even though she was alone.

Evidence of her desire sat uncomfortably in the ruined cloth between her legs.

What was she even doing? What was she thinking?! She’s the Princess of Hyrule. She’s destined to seal Calamity Ganon and save her kingdom. The world relies on them, and she’s tempting the Hero into distracting trysts? They have far, far greater concerns than that of hormones. Never before has she acted so selfishly.

Why did that even complete the trial, anyway?

It was all too confusing. Zelda couldn’t catch any of her swirling thoughts to chew on, let alone swallow.

The artificial walls were slick. It felt like… water? Smooth panels of water cascaded down them. It was warm, but not hot. Her feet sloshed through a shallow layer. It was admittedly a pleasant contrast to the tepid air around her. Being submerged for so long left her toes wrinkled and provided a tiny bit more traction.

Roaring waters grew louder.

Finally, light filtered through a haze of mists. She stepped into it, and the walls opened to a huge chamber. It was taller and perhaps even more grand than the Great Hall of the Castle. Before her was a landing, curtained off by smooth waterfalls on three sides. They seemed to come from the infinite height above. Tiny specs of blue light above tricked Zelda’s mind into thinking she was under the stars.

Is Hebra Mountain hollow?

The fourth side, unimpeded by glass falls, opened to a narrow stairwell curving to the circular wall.

She couldn’t see how far down it went. Curiosity getting the better of her, she waded forward to the fall blocking her view of the center of the chamber. Her hand touched it and it parted easily.

The chamber opened to a yawning abyss. Mighty falls narrowed into slivers in the incalculable distance.

“Ah!” Zelda reeled back, fighting against the nausea of vertigo. The water-curtain mercifully covered her view of the height for her.

Well, it got her mind off of earlier, if just for a moment, until she felt her heart hammering in her chest.

_Will I always associate a racing heart with those springs?_

Aside from herself and the water and the mist, there was nothing. No inscription, no clues, no voice of a monk.

She remembered the frustration she felt in the Ancient Columns. The Tena Ko’Sah shrine stubbornly refused to activate without the presence of the fabled, far-sought, coveted Hero of Hyrule to bless it with his presence. He didn’t do a damn thing except hold the slate and all things ancient bowed to him.

_Why am I not good enough?_

She crossed her arms and sat in the shallow water in a huff. Same situation here, again. She could keep trekking forward, just to see how far down the stairwell went, but Zelda knew there wasn’t a point. It’s the Shrine of Unity. It has to involve Link. Because of course it does.

Guess her resentful streak isn't fully cured.

Her bra cut uncomfortably into the flesh of her ribs. She wanted to strip herself of these abrasive swathes of fabric, dry off, and curl up in bed forever.

Zelda sighed, and settled back into her cursed fate.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s impossible to tell how much time had passed. She thought that perhaps her roiling stomach could be quelled with food if she could find it, but her anxiety had it in too tight of a grasp for it to sound the slightest bit appetizing.

She’d finally managed to calm her thoughts and while her mind wasn’t fully clear, it was at least uncluttered.

That’s when Link appeared in the threshold. Predictably, the wall closed behind him as the stepped onto the landing.

He was stone-faced, focused, and stoic.

His neutral expression was unreadable.

Blue eyes seemed to blend into the room around them as he regarded her passively. As if he’d seen nothing, he continued to take in his surroundings unfazed. His skin was outlined in blue from the faint glow of the waterfalls. She said nothing as he stepped around her to do exactly what she had earlier: Try and determine where the stairwell went.

Zelda couldn’t pinpoint the exact source of her unease.

She was just about to say something, when words appeared in glowing text across the panel of falling water:

_Though the path ahead is perilous,_

_Without faith, you will not see the end._

Link read it silently in his mind and Zelda spoke it aloud, turning over in their minds. If just for the sound of her own voice, Zelda murmured, “That’s rather ominous.”

Link took a photo of the inscription with the Slate. He nodded, a polite gesture just to show he heard. He was being _formal._

That can’t be a good sign.

He extended his hand to help her to her feet, which she hesitated to take. He was so _meticulously_ neutral. She conceded, and he pulled her up in a decidedly knightly way. He’s reverted to how he was when they met.

That hurt more than Zelda anticipated.

“Link, you’re…” different. Closed-off. I can’t read you. Are you mad at me?

The knight turned his knightly gaze on her, as if awaiting an order. “Yes, Princess?”

Zelda made no attempt to hide the wounded look on her face. It grew deadpan in the space of moments. He’s infuriating! “Nevermind. Let’s get these trials done.”

They approached the stairwell, eyeing it suspiciously. It reminded them of how Zora’s Domain always had a shallow pool of water on every walkway. Link stuck his arm out protectively to halt her approach, glowering at the narrow stairs. There was barely enough space for the two of them to walk side-by-side down it.

The curtain of falling water was all they had for a guardrail.

Something about them set off alarms in his mind.

He knelt on the landing, reaching out to touch the first step with his hand. It was _slimy._

Link pulled his hand back to examine what he’d found under the water’s surface. He rubbed his fingers together against the foreign surface, then pulled them apart. It was green. Foliage?

Moss.

He presented it to Zelda to inspect.

“It’s… slippery?” She sat on the landing, testing the traction of the first step with her foot. Patches of moss grew irregularly under the surface. They would need to really watch their step. One slip could send either off into an endless abyss.  
  
Link thought hard for a moment, then decided Zelda should go first. He made a faint gesture that indicated so.

She got the sense that he wanted to be able to see her at all times. That way, he could still her at the first indication of instability. It seemed odd that he opted to have her in his view at all. It’s like he was unfazed by her state of undress suddenly. Before they found the Springs, Link would have at least looked like he had embarrassment to hide or made a point not to look. It’s like he didn’t care.

“Cryonis?” Zelda suggested.

Link thought about it, then shook his head. “We don’t have shoes. Our feet will burn.”

She hummed a noise that seemed to indicate she agreed. “Okay.” She searched the first step for purchase, wavering for only a moment before she caught her balance. If she stays low to the ground, it should be generally safe.

It was slow-going at first as they got their sea-legs. Link naturally picked it up a little faster, relying on his bank of muscle-memory on shield-surfing. His balance and coordination are fine-tuned. Zelda held her own, all things considered. 

Soon enough, they began to take each step with moderate confidence. The moss squished uncomfortably between Zelda’s toes, but she eventually learned how to mediate a loss of traction with momentum. They were walking fine, more or less.

They did this in silence.

Deafening silence.

Waterfalls were poor conversation partners. Though not as bad as Link seemed determined to be.

Zelda decided that the tension was something she’d rather cut sooner than later. It was palpable. And, frankly, distracting. This isn’t a good time to be distracted.

“Link…” she said, pausing on the step beneath him. She eyed him over her shoulder nervously. “Are we going to…” The stoic knight didn’t prompt her. “We should talk about what happened earlier.”

The lighting was poor in this space, but there was no missing the way his face cinched despite his best efforts to remain neutral. He said nothing.

“I get the distinct sense that you are upset with me for something.”

Link knew he needed to speak, so he did. “I’m not upset. We were just doing what the trials demanded of us.” He broke eye contact, unable to hold her gaze. “I take full responsibility for everything after that. I shouldn’t have lost control like that. It won’t happen again.”

And these must be the measures taken to ensure it it won't.

She gave him a dry expression. “Link, I was there, too. What are you even talking about?”

Now that she knew him as a person, she knew the tells that gave hints to what he was thinking. The twitch of his eyebrow meant he bit his tongue. He wanted to be expressive again but didn’t trust himself to stay under control. And by that, his definition was probably _perfect knightly behavior at all times. _

It must be exhausting to be him.

"I have a duty to protect you. I have to uphold a code of honor. I also have a responsibility, as the Hero..." He seemed conflicted, trying to decide what he was thinking. "I didn't think I'd ever have to choose between the three."

She gave him a kind olive-branch expression. “Link,” she chided as if she thought he was being silly, “I played a role in that. You cannot claim full responsibility.”

He squinted at her suspiciously. He looked like he wanted to object.

Zelda wouldn’t let him. “I’m the one that… _tested_ you. You were right: I was being exceptionally unkind.” She crossed one of her arms across her chest self-consciously. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset with me.”

Link’s neutral façade cracked. He swallowed, conflict evident in his eyes.

Zelda thought he was going to stay silent, so she turned back to the task of descending the stairs.

She made it a few stairs away before his voice stopped her, “Why?”  
  
Green eyes turned to meet his. Something… self-conscious stared back at her. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“Why… did you do that?” he tried again.

Zelda turned to face him, trying and failing to read his mind. He wanted an answer. Except he wasn’t the only one self-conscious. “We needed to complete the trial to get here. I don’t think you would have agreed otherwise,” she responded royally.

Link failed to hide how displeased he was with that answer. Wounded? Angry? Betrayed? Zelda didn’t like the options she read.

“That's the only reason.” It was a question.

Zelda broke eye contact this time. _Guilty._ He wanted the full truth. “I…” She swallowed, searching herself. It was a great question. Why _did_ she do that? “I… was curious.”

Link levied her with a weighted gaze and took a step forward. He was processing that. “Curious about what, exactly?”

There was a note of danger to his voice. No matter how calm he sounded, Zelda knew he was upset with her. She wanted to shrink herself smaller. About what makes you tick. Playing you like an instrument. Feeling powerful for the first time in my life. Feeling _good _at something. “I… enjoy learning?” she tries, weakly.

He remained silent, arms crossed.

Zelda couldn’t help watching the movement of his strong arms. She swallowed again. “I… Guess I wanted to know if you truly are perfect. Maybe I just wanted to know if you are even mortal.” I wanted to win against you, just once.

“Selfishly, I wanted to drag you down to my level.” She huffed a soft laugh, looking disgusted with herself.

His arms fell to his sides, taken aback. He was deeply confused.

Waterfalls tried to hush them. It worked.

They stared at each other, clearly on two completely different pages.

“You… wanted to drag _me…_ down to _your_ level?” Link repeated, as if it were a completely foreign language. Zelda nodded. He looked at her like she’d grown an ear in the middle of her forehead.

He crossed another stair towards her. “You are the Princess of Hyrule, part _goddess, _and you think you’re somehow below me?” That is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. He knew she felt like a failure, but he didn’t realize that it warped her entire sense of reality.

Zelda wanted to back up, but there was no safe way to do so.

Link wasn’t quite so versed with verbal expression as his eloquent counterpart. He had to pause and think about what he really wanted to say. Other than just telling her flat-out how wrong she was.

“Pri—_Zelda. _I was upset because I thought you used me like… a research project. Or just a key for a lock.” Link winced at his poor choice of words and quickly corrected, “Uh—just a way to get to the Spring.” He stared earnestly into her eyes. He felt so far beneath her that her interest in him must be akin to that of an object. Understanding registered on her face. She knew what it felt like to be stripped of her personhood and seen only as her utility.

Zelda looked horrified. "It wasn't like that!" Yes, she desperately wanted to advance to the Spring, but that drive alone wasn't enough to cause... _that. _

Link regarded her thoughtfully. He wanted to believe her.

_How was it, then?_

Zelda held one of her shoulders self-consciously. "I... never allow myself to not be focused on fulfilling my destiny. I don't allow myself the leniency to have... fun." Her arms fell to her sides. She heard his voice in her head, telling her that she disregarded her own health. "For a short time, I forgot that I was the Princess. I liked that."

And he forgot that he was the Hero. There's no denying the relief to have that off his shoulders, no matter how brief.

"I could be executed for so much as _looking_ at you sideways..."

Confusion cocked her brow. Was he serious? Turns out, yes, he was. The anxiety in his eyes made him look younger.

Her amusement surprised them both. "_Link... _I'm not exactly in a rush to explain any of this to my father. Or anyone else for that matter." Her eyes glittered up at him, asking him to trust her. _This stays between us._

Link released a breath he hadn't realized was stuck in his lungs. He believed her.

"Okay." He smiled back sanguinely. 

The companionable silence was back. They'd missed it.

Feeling lighter, Zelda turned to continue the journey down the perilous staircase. A little thought occurred to her and she laughed to herself, "I guess I got my answer after all. Turns out, you are mortal." She shrugged her narrow shoulder nearly to her ear and shot him a sidelong stare over her shoulder that nearly made him slip to his death.

Link’s face and neck flushed Moblin-red and breaking her gaze was a mistake since his eyes immediately noticed how much her panties struggled to cover her supple backside. He made a noise of complaint and stared at the waterfalls, begging them to interject.

_Yep, definitely mortal._

She pretended she didn't see and continued to negotiate the stairs. 

Then a runaway thought t-boned her mind.  
  
“Come to think of it…” Zelda stops suddenly, surprising Link. He has to flail his arms to not collide with her. She appraised him with a shrewd look, and Link suddenly felt even more naked. He made a high, anxious sound. “You _were _uncharacteristically composed.”

She smirked viciously at him. “Is that why you took so long to catch up?”

The fact that his face _immediately_ darkened said he knew exactly what she meant. “Huah--!” he panicked. Her finger poked his chest. He couldn’t backpedal anywhere.

“You did.”

_Guilty. _Link rubbed the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at her. Like she said, he's only mortal.


	7. Trial of Time

They’d been descending for an impossibly long amount of time. That entire time was spent balanced, crouched, or otherwise focused on poise. Loathe as she was to admit it, Zelda’s legs had received an exhaustive workout.

Her stomach finally had the courage to complain to her.

The fatigue caused her to misstep, to take just _that_ much longer to correct her balance on the mossy step. “Ah!” she cried and flailed her arms, feet slipping this way and that on the moss.

A strong hand grabbed her bicep, steadying her.

“Thanks, Link,” she sighed gratefully. It probably wouldn’t have been a big deal of a fall. Probably. It was getting too dangerous to continue. “What are the chances that we could stop to rest for a while?”

Link nodded and immediately sat on a step, leaning against the wall. He probably had waned in strength as well but is too proud to say anything. Zelda didn’t have the energy to chastise him.

Instead, she occupied the free step below his feet. “How long have we been descending in this stairwell?” She leaned her back against the wall, letting the smooth waters run over her. Her clothes had dried during their climb, but Zelda didn’t care. It’s inescapable at this point. “I can’t wait to get dry.”

Link produced the Sheikah slate, checking the time. 5:48 PM. -39*F He had no point of reference. Was it the same day they set out from camp? The next? Two days after? “No less than an hour,” Link guessed.

Zelda couldn’t help but think that was odd. An _hour’s_ worth of going down steps? The Spring of Unity better not only grant her sacred powers at will, but also a foot rub. She actually couldn’t see her feet at the moment as the curtain of water fell cleanly in a line across her ankles. An idea occurred to her.

She sat up, reaching her hand out to part the curtain. All she saw was a hollow cylinder of nothing ringed by water curtains and, presumably, more stairs. It looked just as bottomless as it did when they started. “Link… look at this.”

He did. He seemed just as puzzled as her.

“You don’t think… that it is _literally _bottomless, do you?” Link shrugged. An idea came to his head, and he turned back to the slate then shuffled so they could both look at it.

He pulled up the map. What they saw was disorienting.

Hyrule was distorted. Static flickered across the screen. Deep indigo splotched out entire regions. Distortion shuffled entire chunks of the kingdom erratically.

“How strange…” Zelda said, gently taking the slate from Link. “I’ve never seen it behave like this before.” Fearing a malfunction, she tested the magnesis rune, the stasis, the camera. Everything else appeared to be in proper working order.

“It’s gone out before,” Link said. “Once. Remember the sandstorm? The map went completely blue. The distortion is new.”

Zelda hummed to herself thoughtfully as she recalled. “It must be an effect of the shrine. I don’t know exactly how it works, but I believe that would mean we probably _are_ in an endless loop.” She peeked out past the curtain again, but this time looked up. Just as she suspected, there was no change in the little blue lights glowing on the ceiling. An hour’s descent should have moved them. 

Zelda pulled up the photo album. Link’s picture of the riddle displayed.

_Though the path ahead is perilous,_

_Without faith, you will not see the end._

She frowned at the text. “You will not see the end…?” Link tried and failed to guess what she could be thinking. “I think that line is being literal, not ominous. In an endless loop, we will never see the end.”

Receiving her next thought was like smashing her skull against the stone. 

“Have faith. Why is it that it always comes back to the ‘have faith,’ thing?” She curled up miserably against the stone wall. “Hylia, I have faith.” Well, guess they have to go home.

Link didn’t seem to jump to the same conclusion, though he was slower to voice his thoughts. When Zelda finally prompted him to speak, Link ventured, “It… probably doesn’t have to do with faith in the Goddess.”

Zelda blinked. Guess she hadn’t thought of that. “Faith in what, then?”

“Faith in yourself?”

She looked sour at the idea. “There’s… no way for me to demonstrate that. Besides, these are the Trials of Unity. It has to involve us both.” She batted some ideas around in her mind. Something occurred to her. “Both of the last two trials involved trying to get us closer. Physically.”

Link swallowed and drummed his fingers on his knees.

Zelda eyed his fidgeting. “I feel the same way.” She was restless as well. “It’s so… oddly specific. It feels foreign and… contrived?”

Her words said in any other way or by any other person would have rang harsh but Link knew what she meant. “I… can’t think of anything,” he cleared his throat, “Physical. For this riddle.” Well, he could, but it would be a case of trying to make the riddle match the answer, not the other way around.

She shrugged one shoulder in a way that said she wasn’t even trying with that right now. Zelda’s focus is on big-picture ideas. “It has me thinking why we’re being pu—_encouraged_, to be intimate.” Link was uneasy, but attentive. “I think it has something to do with my earlier question: Why have the Unity Trials at all?”

Zelda focused on a random point ahead of her, eyes moving as if in REM sleep. Finally, she snapped out of it. “Link. What do you think Mipha was going to say?”

Link looked startled. “At the Lanayru Arch, when I told the Champions… the results of our journey. Mipha tried to give me advice about wielding my powers. She said it’s embarrassing?” Then she had this strange look in her eye while she looked at Link. The Zora seemed to lose courage and told Zelda to disregard her.

“What do you think her advice was going to be? She said ‘It helps when I think about…’” Zelda held out an empty palm, as if expecting him to place the answer in it.

Clearly, Zelda thought she was on to something. Link decided to humor her. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “She looked at me when she started her sentence.”

Zelda chewed her lip. “You.”

A sad expression crossed his face. “Me.”

She disliked that look in his eyes. “So… I should be thinking of you while trying to seal Ganon.”

“I don’t think that’s what she was going to say,” Link laughed, taking her dumb joke for the gift it was. It didn’t completely steal the somber from his eyes. “Mipha loves me. She made that very clear.”

Zelda made a soft sound of empathy in her throat. “So you think she was about to say, ‘It helps when I try to think about the one I love’?”

Link nodded.

Zelda processed this information.

“If it’s true that her love for you amplified her powers, then it might stand to reason that my powers could be enhanced as well.” Link looked distinctly uncomfortable. What was she saying? Zelda was sticking to logic; emotions would have to work themselves out later. “This Spring is the hardest to get to. If I didn’t access my powers at the other three, perhaps this one operates as a failsafe.”

Link blinked at her, astonished. “The Trials of Unity are… a backup. Aimed at getting you to fall in love with me. So you can access your powers?” It sounded ridiculous spoken aloud.

They both made a face. Contrived doesn’t begin to cover this feeling. It’s actually kind of creepy.

“Why me?” Link asks.

Zelda manages to both nod and shake her head at once. “Exactly. If love somehow amplifies powers, why would it matter that the connection is with you?” She winced at a thought, clearly disliking some specific train. “The other Champions have powers. Does that therefore mean Revalli, Daruk, and Urbosa are in love with you too? You’re quite the busy man.”

Link balked. Much to Zelda’s amusement, images seemed to flash unbidden behind his eyes. The knight violently shook his head to clear them. “I sure hope not.”

It didn’t answer the question, though. Why him? Zelda wished Impa was here; She usually had esoteric nuggets of information about previous incarnations of themselves. Like, hey, were they ever locked in a cave together and told to kiss or die? Is that in the index of your scrolls?

There’s something that they were missing here. Why did Mipha use a love of Link, but the others didn’t? Why was he so crucial to the task of reaching the Spring?

“Wait,” Zelda says, finally realizing something, “Is that the reason why we passed the last trial?” Answering that question was dangerous in the way that skipping through a minefield is dangerous. Is she asking if he suddenly fell in love with her? That’s a big ticket item. He wisely remained quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. “If it was supposed to be just a kiss it should’ve opened… right away.”

“… What.” Link’s head was whirling. Too much information, too fast. She remained silent, letting him process it. He knew she was on to something here, but there was a firewall in his consciousness.

“Why did it open at that exact moment?” Link watched color rise to her face as she accessed the memory.

Link swallowed and tried to recall the moment that the wall opened, precisely what was happening.

_Zelda’s breath hitched. She said his name. His fingers were bound for where she needed him most. He wanted to. His focus was entirely on her._

Link let out a high whine and crossed his arms over his thighs. Focus, knight! Fate of Hyrule, and all that. He cleared his throat and exhaled. He chose his words very specifically. “It was the moment I was ready to give. I was no longer… focused on myself.”

Meaning evaded her, until it didn’t. Zelda’s ears heated. What exactly was he about to give her? She didn’t let herself entertain that question. “Vulnerability to give, courage to receive.”

He nodded. Zelda swallowed and didn’t answer.

They were acutely aware of how much skin the other was showing. Their unease continued to fester. Zelda couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something. Something likely very obvious and simple.

~*~*~*~*~*~

This was getting them nowhere. Pondering the intersections between Destiny and Unity wasn’t going to help get them out of here. Zelda sighed and glanced Link’s way. He seemed lost in thought.

She gently broke him out of it. “Link?” He turned to look at her. “I don’t know what to do here.” She sounded crestfallen in a way that suggested she didn’t literally mean what plan of action to take. Zelda was overwhelmed. Running low on hope and, sadly, faith.

“Should we… should we just teleport to Hateno?”

Link’s heart ached for her. He considered reaching out to comfort her, but instead produced the slate for her. He’d support any decision she made. She gently took it and searched the distorted screen for Hateno.

For any shrine location.

Any place to teleport.

There was nothing.

“Link…” she said, dread knotting her stomach. The cords of his neck jumped in fear. “Link, I can’t select anything.”

Panic rose in her throat. “We… how do we get out?”

The quickening of his breath was his only answer.

“Are we trapped down here?” Zelda glanced around wildly. They’d always had a panic button. A way out of here. She was suddenly aware of her hunger, of her fatigue.

They could die down here.

What time is it? Zelda shifted the screen so it displayed.

When she did, Link’s heart stopped. He read it again, just to make sure.

5:48 PM -39*F

“Link…? What is it?”

Link swallowed. He was shaking. A wave of nausea threatened to burn him with bile.

“The… the time.” He licked his lips nervously. “It hasn’t changed.”

“What?”

He took the slate from her, fiddling with it. Everything was in working order except for the map and, apparently, the time.

They sat in silence, watching the slate together, and counted sixty seconds in their heads.

5:48 PM -39*F.

The chamber. It distorted the reality around them. It was an endless, impossible loop. The Sheikah slate couldn’t map it. Time was stopped.

The Goddesses would keep them trapped down here for as long as it took. Even if it took an eternity. They weren’t allowed to return, to face Ganon, until they had completed... whatever it was they were supposed to do.

Zelda was terrified.

They wouldn’t die down here. They’d be trapped forever in this purgatory. The world wouldn’t even know they were gone. It would pick up right where they left off or not at all.

Her mind kicked into high gear.

_Not if I can help it_. 

“It’s an endless loop,” she muttered to herself. “I wonder… Link, stay here.”

Alarm shot through the already anxious knight. He motioned for her to stop, but she held up her hand to him. “Just, please, stay here. I have an idea. I’ll be right back.”

Before he could object, Zelda was back on her feet, fueled by adrenaline, and making her way down the steps without him. Link sat hunched anxiously on the step she’d left him on. He desperately tried not to think about her slipping with him no where near to catch her.

He couldn’t see her. The curtain of water rippled her form into non-existence as she continued around the spiraling path. She’d taken the Slate with her. He couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was water.

Silence screamed in his ears.

The din of flowing water hissed and maliciously obscured any sound that could indicate Zelda was alive.

Though time stood still, he couldn’t track how much of it passed.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Princess!” he called out. He voice was hoarse, and he tried again. “Princess!” Louder, this time. “Zelda! Answer me!” He put his fingers in his mouth and blew a sharp whistle. Nothing.

He was on his feet, considering the merits of sliding down the stairs like a series of shields to surf. Maybe he could catch up with her. The water laughed at him like evil koroks.

He strained his hearing. His mind played tricks on him, memories of her cries of fear echoing indistinctly.

That’s it. He had to go to her.

Link prepared to build momentum and skid every one of these damn stairs to get to her.

“Link, wait.” Said a voice behind him. Link yelped and jumped clean out of his skin. He wheeled around to face the threat. He saw the impossible: Zelda standing on the steps above him. All before he’d even landed back in the water.

The movement was too fast. His feet found no traction on the step beneath him and he couldn’t transfer his momentum in time. “Link!”

He lost footing. Zelda’s heart stopped as he fell two, three, five steps. He cried out as he was flung off the stairwell, body eaten alive by the waterfall.

Zelda had only a split instant to react. She immediately activated the Stasis rune and locked the highlighted body still. She saw him reaching desperately to grab the ledge, just missing it. She could barely see his fingertips poking through the water curtain.

She launched forward on her belly, heedless of her own safety. Her ribs creaked at each stab of a corner and her fingernails scrabbled for purchase on the moss to come to a stop. Her prone body on the stair gave her just enough surface area to not follow him to his doom.

Her hands reached out to his glowing yellow one, wrapping both around his wrist. She pulled with all of her might against the immovable person frozen in time. She saw Link’s golden face petrified in terror. She used all the traction she had to tug him towards the safety of the stone wall.

The stasis rune expired.

Link’s frozen scream completed, then resurfaced as all of his momentum was suddenly redirected. He flew forward and hit the stone wall with a bodily thud. He wheezed at the wind knocked from his lungs. 

“Link!” She hadn’t realized that she’d used too much force on him while he was in stasis. She clutched his wet biceps to keep him from sliding any further. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

Link looked harrowed, but alive.

He looked down at her hands on his upper arms, nails digging crescent moons into the skin. They were shaking.

Surprised, Zelda let him go.

“I…” Link tried. “I’m okay.” He focused on trying to get his breathing back under control. _He’s alive._ “Thank you.”

Zelda breathed something that sounded like a scoff. Her blood would not stop screaming in her ears.

He shakily sat up on his knees, one step below her. She did the same. They were scared.

Before she’d even realized she’d done it, Zelda wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her chest to his. Her whole body shook. “Don’t scare me like that.”

His shock receded slowly. Then, despite himself, he wrapped his arms around her back. She’d saved him.

When they had finally caught their breath and pulled away, Link rested his hands on his bare knees. He was knelt on one step lower than her, his eyes level with her torso.

He was staring at her chest.

Seriously? Well _that_ is not a very knightly way to behave right now.

She opened her mouth to scold him, but he spoke first. “You’re hurt.” She blinked in surprise at the concern in his eyes. She followed his eyes to herself: Blood leaked and blended watercolors across the front of her in erratic horizontal lines from hitting the corners of the stairs. Skin marbled where yellow bruises promised revenge. Moss clung to her skin and dyed her bra.

His hand tentatively reached out, eyes asking for permission first. When he received it, he gently palpated each rib, moving tenderly when she hissed in pain. “Can you breathe in all the way?” She tried and flinched when she hit a certain point of intake. “Where?” She indicated which rib had bitten her lungs.

Gently, he examined the rib despite her whimpers. “Sorry.” He couldn’t find any fractures. Nothing sharp, no distortion. It wasn’t life-threatening. “I think it’s just bruised.”

When he looked up at her eyes, he saw her face tinted pink. It was a nice reprieve from pain or terror. He offered her the faintest smile.

“I’ll be fine,” Zelda promised.

Link nodded, relieved.

The waterfalls murmured praise around them.

They needed to get out of here. “Okay. Where’s the slate?”

Zelda’s face immediately turned back to dread. They both looked up to where she had been standing when Link slipped.

The slate was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press f to pay respects.


	8. Trial of Faith

~*~*~*~*~*~

They searched everywhere, never straying too far from one another’s side. Now that they knew the infinite stairwell was an illusion, Link scraped a chunk of moss from the floor and stuck it to the wall as a marker.

They worked their way down the stairs again and passed it on their second lap. The slate was nowhere to be found.

“It- It must have fallen over the edge when I jumped to grab you,” Zelda rasped, distraught. Her unique accent made her sound even more melancholy. “Link, I’m so sorry.”

Link shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Besides, it wasn’t doing us much good at the moment.” The knight’s penchant for combat wanted to override his nerves, but there was nothing to fight. Instead, he gave his brain something productive to gnaw on. “The voice did say that we need to cast aside all equipment and rely on each other.”

Then why didn’t the unseen hand take the slate along with everything else?

Zelda knew he was just saying that to make her feel better.

“The inscription said, ‘Though the path ahead is perilous, without faith you will not see the end.’” Zelda thought out loud. At least she memorized it. “Link, I might have a guess as to how we get out of here.”

He turned to her as she reached for his hand, intertwining her slender fingers in his. Quite frankly, Link had developed a Pavlovian response to her having ideas. “Uh. What are you doing?” He half expected her to drag him by the hand and—well, he didn’t know what. His nerves were fried.

“That’s it. That was my idea.” Zelda answered.

Link blinked owlishly at her. Then at the hands. Then at the water around him. “Did it work?”

It earned him a deadpan stare. “The Trials of Unity are trying to push us together, right? Do you think we could trick it?”

"Trick it?"

"As in, walk down the stairs hand-in-hand."

Link felt silly but decided to try it. They didn’t have a whole lot of options. Keeping fingers locked together despite the slickness of the water, Link and Zelda negotiated their way down the slimy stairs. Zelda couldn’t help finding it exceptionally endearing how he’d raise her hand to support her when she braved a step down.

_Ever the gentleman._

Coming around the bend, Link saw the blob of moss still stuck to the wall. Both Hero and Princess stared at it like it had spat at their feet. They’d completed another lap.

Zelda released his hand in favor of throwing hers up. She cursed under her breath in a way that was decidedly unfit for someone of such nobility. “What do you want?!” she shouted at the waterfalls.

The water flowed, careless of her problems.

Despite the situation, Link knew her well enough to be amused. She must be hungry. That was usually a quick fix. However, his amusement died in his throat and rotted there. She very well could starve to death, right? Or worse, they'd be locked in this state indefinitely. He wanted to start a fire, make camp, cook dinner. Go back to routine.

Instead, they remained wet and uncomfortable and trapped in a shrine.

An existential crisis knocked on the windows of his eyes.

“Link?” Zelda says gently. She looked concerned. He shook his head. _Don’t wanna talk about it_.

Zelda dropped it. Her mind was full enough already.

She couldn’t find the answers they needed to complete the shrine: Why thrust them together? Why have Unity Trials? Why Link specifically? Does she have to magically fall in love? Is that how they get out of here? But all the other trials have been physical in nature. What? Were they expected to rut like stags on these dangerous stairs? Zelda felt bitterness swirling in her heart.

Curse these Goddesses and their unclear instructions. Curse this strange, contrived situation.

It’s only something pleasurable when you get a choice.

Link was watching her intently.

He looked concerned.

She finally steeled herself, rolled her shoulders, and looked him in the eye. She looked determined, but exhausted. The way she looked when she passed out in the Spring at Mt. Lanayru. “Okay. Let’s do this.” With a deep breath, she placed her hands on the V of his hips and leaned in to kiss his neck.

Alarm shot through Link and he firmly held her at arm’s length by the shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa! Pri-- Zelda! What are you _doing_?!”

Zelda’s hand slipped lower on his abdomen, a practiced motion. X action gets Y result. “Isn’t It obvious?” her voice tried and failed to be sultry.

This situation was about as far from sexual as he could imagine. Her hand moving to his thigh did nothing but run his blood cold. She didn’t want it, but she did it anyway. “Stop it.” He pushed her hands away. She looked distraught, as if that was the last idea she had.

Zelda was wounded. “Do we really have any choice? I’d rather not wait around for eternity.” How did she manage to say that so sadly? “It worked last time.”

Link shook his head and ran his hand through his sandy hair. “Look—Zelda, my answer is no. That’s not happening here.” The Goddesses had the wrong Hero and Princess if they thought he was just going to… To _use_ her. To use himself for that matter.

Discouraged, Zelda let out a long-suffering sigh and sat on the step. “I’m not that injured. I think I’ll survive it just fine.”

“You know that isn’t it.”

Zelda hugged her knees, giving up. Guess this is her fate. Stuck in purgatory with the Hero of Hyrule who now looked as disgusted with her as she was with herself. He'd rather die down here than touch her. She didn't blame him.

She looked so small. Battered around by the world. Empathy clenched his chest, and he decided to sit on the same step beside her. There was just enough space for it to be safe.

“I’m sorry,” she said into her arms.

His knee touched hers. “It’s okay. I understand.”

He refused to give in to despair. It was his duty to protect her, to protect Hyrule. When she’s at her weakest, he must be at his strongest.

They sat in silence for a long time, each lost in their own minds. Water flowed mercilessly all around them.

It doesn’t matter how long they’re here. It could be days. It can be centuries. He’d rather die than to violate her like that.

Something got stuck on the lining of his thoughts. Something odd. Faith. Have faith.

Link suddenly stood, surprising Zelda. “Your Grace, stand up.” She blinked up at him, startled, but took his hand anyway. “I think you were right. About holding hands.”

The Princess tilted her head at him. They’d already tried that. Link just continued, “’The path ahead is perilous’… I don’t think it means the stairs.”

Zelda was catching second-hand hope.

“This whole… this chamber is an illusion, right? Stopped in time. Not on the map?” She nodded hesitantly. “What if the fall is just as much of an illusion?”

Zelda’s brows furrowed in thought. It was like getting a dying bird to drink water. “What are you getting at?”

“I think we’re supposed to jump together.” Without faith, you’ll never see the end.

Zelda swallowed nervously.

“It sounds risky. If you’re wrong, we’ll be dead.” Does that mean time ceases to exist as they know it? Does Hyrule keep moving forward headlong into its destruction? Which is worse?

“Which idea do you think makes more sense in terms of the riddle? Doing a literal leap of faith, or…?” Or doing something they feel forced into.

Zelda gave it some consideration. If they went forth with the latter only to realize _that_ was the wrong answer, would it be worse than death?

Tough to say.

Link intertwined his fingers through hers. He seemed to have his mind made up. Now he just waited for her to give in. “I refuse to… to do _that._ So you can either jump now or jump eventually.” He thought for a moment, “I won’t go without you.”

His tone left no room for argument. He stared at her honestly; Zelda stared at their connected hands.

“Okay.”

He smiled encouragingly. She believed him. They moved to the ledge, free hands parting the curtain of water. The impossible fall twisted Zelda’s gut. Her feet were heavy Taluses. It’s either jump now or jump eventually.

She cast one last anxious glance at him. He looked determined and steadfast.

Her toes dangled over the edge of the abyss.

“Ready?”

She nodded. He squeezed her hand.

Together, they stepped off the ledge.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link hoped wildly that he was right.

His stomach lifted into his throat as wind and mist burst into their faces. Freefalling in a vertical tunnel of glowing waterfalls, they hit terminal velocity. Neither could hear their own screams over the sound of the wind, let alone the other’s.

The only way he knew she was still there was his hand locked tightly in hers.

Falling at the exact same speed of the water, Link saw their warped reflection. Vantablack nothingness below them; the same uncaring not-stars above them. The same ring of water all the way around them.

If not for the wind blowing in their hair, everything was still. The surreal scene glittered in Zelda’s awestruck eyes. It was like breathing underwater or floating in midair. It was so loud that all was silent.

The Hero and the Princess, lost in time and space.

They had to have faith. Faith they would be okay. Faith they had done everything in their power. Faith in the Goddess. Faith in each other. Faith in themselves.

Link closed his eyes…

…and surrendered.


	9. Going Home

~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s that feeling like when you’re falling asleep.

The air is cold and nips your nose. But you’re warm in a blanket. Safe, content.

Just as your eyes close, and rest lures you away from consciousness,

Thousands of black claws reach up from the void and sink into your skin to drag you down into its yawning mouth.

Link jolted awake.

It felt like he had fallen from the sky. His heart flurried in his chest. He sat up, disoriented and panicked.

Where was he? Where’s Zelda? What was that strange, vivid dream he’d just had?

He smelled earth and trees. It’s something you don’t notice until you are away from it for a long time.

He was lying in tall grass. It stung his skin, thousands of harmless little claws poking him. It was completely dark, except for the faint light of a fire somewhere nearby. He couldn’t feel it’s warmth, but he wasn’t cold.

However, he was wet.

His shorts clung to his body. Damp, but not dry. His hair was dark with water that wouldn’t be blown out.

It wasn’t a dream.

Link was awake now, senses trying to take in everything around him at once. “Zelda?” he said to the silence. There was life: crickets and sunset fireflies and the call of a wood owl. He didn’t see her in this field of tall grasses. A campfire crackled, freshly fed, some distance away. It illuminated the trees and clearing around it. The sky above wasn’t precisely that; No stars, no clouds, just more onyx nothing. He couldn’t even see a horizon line.

Maybe he died after all.

“PRincess?” he stands, searching the swaying stalks for her.

An orange glow attracts his attention. He found the Sheikah slate laying undamaged.

“Link,” says a voice. It was definitely Zelda’s. She sat up in the grasses, her face a faint red outline on one side. Tension released in his shoulders. _She’s okay._

“Link, where are we?” Her breath was coming in too quick, and she winced at her bruised ribs.

He shook his head and offered her a hand up, which she gratefully accepted. When he confirmed he didn’t hear the sound of any monsters lurking in their immediate area, they cautiously made their way towards the campfire.

With such dismal lighting, this immediate area made him think he was in the forest outside Kakariko Village.

However, that couldn’t be the case. Just past the fire, glinting in the dim light, was a flat wall. It belonged to a house that seemed suspiciously familiar, but he couldn’t make it out. He didn’t remember a house in Kakariko Forest.

“What… _is_ this place? It’s… strangely familiar.” Zelda wondered aloud. So she felt it, too. “Link, you’ve found the Sheikah slate!” He nodded and handed it over at her silent request. Immediately, she checked for functionality.

It didn’t appear damaged. The map continued to distort and shuffle the map of Hyrule Kingdom. There was no way to select any shrines to teleport to.

“What time is it?”

Zelda hesitated, then swiped to that function. 5:48 PM -39*F.

“We’re still not in Hyrule…” Zelda mumbled.

She turned on the album. The last image displayed just fine. But when she pointed the camera feature, it didn’t provide heightened night vision like it had in the cave. That was odd.

Magnesis seemed to be working, except typically it outlined the objects around them, metal or not. Only what was visible by firelight had a magenta outline on the screen.

The case appeared to be the same with Stasis.

Bombs didn’t glow. It’s as if the darkness around them swallowed up any light that wasn’t fire.

They approached the clearing with the campfire. Sunset fireflies hovered around contentedly. It was a clearing as normal as any other. A blanket was laid out beside it. “Was… someone recently here? The fire appears freshly fueled.”

He shook his head, doubting it.

Something about that house. They approached, eyes straining to catch even the slightest bit of light. They found the front door, and the exact sound it made when it creaked open gave him déjà vu. In the absence of sight, his smell overtook him and landed him in a memory.

An early morning, hot milk on in his hands. Dust particles sparkling in the window. The smell of old wooden floors. His horse outside grazing. _Home._

He stepped inside. The third slat creaked, just as it always had. “I… know this place,” Link mumbled. Even though he couldn’t see a single thing, he moved through the space fluidly. He opened a drawer by feel alone (it’s the knob with the chip in it) and produced a box.

All Zelda heard was him fiddling with something, then the strike of a match. The tiny flame lit up the room around them.

It was Link’s home in Hateno Village.

He stood on the dining chair and reached up to light the lamps above them, then extinguished the match. Zelda watched as he took in all the familiar details, from the pictures on the walls to the cup he left on the counter.

He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or terrified by this discovery.

“Link… did you write this?” That snapped him out of it. Zelda was inspecting a book on the table. For a horrifying moment, he thought it was his journal. There were things in there that he preferred the Princess of Hyrule not read. On closer inspection, he realized he’d never seen it before. He shook his head and joined her side to read the page.

> _The path home will reveal itself,_
> 
> _When one is nurturing,_
> 
> _And a home is found inside another._

He watched Zelda’s hands fidget with the fabric wrapped around her. Color warmed her face and burned her ears.

Link waited, watching her. Finally, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

It seemed to derail her train of thought too suddenly and she started. “I—I’m thinking that I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” He knew it was a partial truth, but kindly didn’t press the issue. He shared the same sentiment. Too many riddles in a day.

“The bed’s upstairs. I’ll get started on dinner.” Or, whatever meal this was supposed to be. Did it matter if time is stopped?

Zelda’s grateful smile was only dampened by the dark circles under her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Though eerie at first, Link found that they were safe in their immediate area. The torch he’d left by the stables was still there, and he used it to explore the nearby woods. There wasn’t a single monster to be found, only Hylian shrooms and bird eggs and herbs and things he would otherwise find in any forest.

He followed the sound of a dull roar until the forest gave way to sand and ocean waves pushing and pulling at his feet. A lantern like the ones he’d seen in Hateno Village was secured in the shallow waters. What’s this doing here?

He lit it with the torch, and the area around him opened up with the additional firelight. A… beach? It feels like he’s been here before, but he couldn’t place it. He felt calm. Was this place just a mashup of places in Hyrule that he loved? His curiosity got the better of him, and he’d circled the entire shoreline, lighting lanterns as he went. With each one burning, the area felt a little more like home.

It was a small island in the middle of a sea of darkness.

Link shouldered the small satchel of food he’d gathered and decided to make his way back to camp. The island wasn’t so small as to be cramped, but finding his way back was not challenging. As the knight moved through the woods, he caught just the faintest glimpse of movement. Something glowing turquoise in the night.

A Blupee?

He chased it, but it was long gone.

Deciding it wasn’t a threat, he made his way back to camp, set up the cooking pot, and got started on dinner. It was a simple dish that didn’t take a lot of effort but took some time. He left the medley of shrooms, herbs, and meat to simmer and went to check on Zelda.

Link knocked quietly on the door, then entered when he heard silence.

Everything was in place, including the book on the table and the cup on the counter.

All except for two tiny garments hung over the railing to dry.

An intrusive image sucker punched him. _Zelda naked in his bed. _

Link stumbled back as if physically struck. Isn’t that one of those debauched fantasies he’d managed to quash in his travels with her?

The sheets rustled and she murmured something.

That’s all the confirmation he needed that she was fine. He should go.

_The sound of her laugh her hands on his navel her dilated pupils her breath in his ear her flirtatious grin—_

Link clenched his eyes shut, trying to mediate the crossfire between his brain and his body.

_Moblin snouts. Hinox snores._

Ever the professional, Link coerces himself into moving to the kitchen and collecting flatware and dishes. It’s a luxury he thinks she’s earned.

_Her fingers at the nape of his neck. Lynel breath. The iron cage shattering. King Roam eating a roasted bird leg. ‘Guess you are mortal after all.’ Her leg grinding against him. _

The plates and forks trembled in his hands. Why was he so lacking in self-control? The combination of foreign and familiar, fantasy and reality, played tricks on his mind.

He eyed the stairs, tempted.

_Zelda’s breath in his ear, making him shiver. ‘What is it, Link?’_

“What is it, Link?”

The Knight jolted back to reality. He glanced up to see Zelda staring down at him, wearing his Hylian Tunic. It just barely reached the tops of her thighs. Why is that so much worse?

Link’s face flushed dark red and he immediately turned his back to her. She was just high enough, angle just so, that if he squinted…

He cleared his throat. “Dinner’s almost ready.” Then retreated out the front door.

This isn’t acceptable. He’s the Hero of Hyrule, chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness. He’s a Knight, with a Knight’s honor. Allowing such lascivious thoughts to plague him was evidence of a failure in character. He said he’d rather die than violate her, to take advantage of the situation, and he meant it.

_You’re not allowed to enjoy this._

Mechanically, he completed the dish and set the pot to the side of the fire to cool.

Zelda’s faint outline appeared from the house. She carried a bundled blanket in her arms. Apparently, she was being led by the nose. “My goodness, what _is _that wonderful smell?”

Link smiled despite himself. It’s almost like everything was back to normal. He served her a helping portion and handed it to her once she settled on the dirt floor, blanket across her lap. The Princess took it and immediately began ravaging the makeshift meal.

With a laugh, Link cleared his throat and offered her a fork. She had the decency to be embarrassed.

“Thanks…” They ate in amicable silence, enjoying the feeling of being dry and warm for the first time in what felt like days. Zelda thought her fingers would never lose their wrinkles. “I’m glad you were right.”

Link turned a curious gaze her way. “About the illusion. About jumping. I genuinely thought for a time that we were done for.” Her soft voice was sanguine and full of gratitude and something else that Link could not name. At least she looked rested. “That’s assuming this isn’t some sort of morbid afterlife.”

The knight snorted back at her and shook his head. _Probably not. _There was a riddle to solve, after all.

“I wonder… If time is stopped for us, is it stopped for all of Hyrule? Have we been missing for days?”

Link pulled out the slate to confirm that, yes, it was 5:48 PM -39*F.

“The temperature hasn’t changed either. It’s reading the Hebra region.”

“Mm. So, probably, all of time is in a stasis.” She set her empty plate to the side and folded her hands in her lap. “It’s strange to think that the whole world has stopped just for us. Are we really that important?”

_Am I really that important?_

Link didn’t answer, because she didn’t sound like she wanted one. “If time is just paused until we complete the trials… Wouldn’t it be kindest just to not return?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we don’t go back, Calamity Ganon will never surface. We wouldn’t give it the option to succeed. There is no possibility of failure.”

Link thought about it for a moment. “No one in Hyrule is living right now. They’re stopped. They’d never get to live their lives.”

Zelda looked sadly at her own hands, as if she wished them to glow with an ancient power. They didn’t. “I’m not sure which fate is worse. Death by Ganon, or ceasing to exist altogether.”

“It doesn’t have to be either. We’re doing everything we can to ensure that.” Link’s voice was low and steady, trying to keep her from floating away. “We very well could succeed. Other incarnations have.”

Zelda forced a smile and nodded. “Right.”

Link considered a way to comfort her, but any words he had formed died on his lips. Movement in the forest, just outside the light of the fire. At his sudden tension, Zelda was alert and nervous. He strained all his senses for even the slightest hint of danger. A bird? Squirrel? Owl? Monster?

None of those things. 

Turquoise light reflected at them from the flames. A small creature with large, lined eyes stared at them. It's tail looked like the yellow horns of a Blupee, but wriggled behind it.

"Link... what is that?" 


	10. Offering

~*~*~*~*~*~

The little creature had the feline eyes of a Lynel without any of the intimidation. Pupils shaped like blades stared back at them. It crouched lower, skittish. Large ears flattened to its round head. The neon yellow tail behind it expanded its leaves and twitched anxiously.

It made a sound ending with a question mark.

Link’s first instinct was to take out the Sheikah slate and snap a photo of the creature, but it disappeared before he could get it to focus.

Link and Zelda stared after it. The glow of its fur should be apparent in the darkness, but anywhere that had no firelight had no light at all. It was gone.

Link wasn’t sure what to think. However, he knew better than to overlook even the smallest detail in these shrines. Nothing was there by accident or was placed without purpose.

Zelda spoke, “I didn’t really feel threatened by it. Did you?” Link shook his head. “Odd that we can’t see it when it isn’t lit by the fire. That would likely mean chasing after it will prove fruitless.” She hoped that they weren’t expected to hurt it for some kind of reward like the Blupee.

Link seemed to agree. “Whatever it is, it can’t go far. We’re on an island.”

“An island?” Zelda blinked at him, catching up. He must have explored while she slept.

Link licked his lips, a gesture caught between anxious and thoughtful. “I think… I think it may be an island of all my favorite places.” He seemed to think that wouldn’t make sense. “But… Pieced together.”

Zelda stared at him thoughtfully, her head tilted. “An island of your favorite places?” she echoed. She examined the area around her with brand new eyes. The trees, the smell. If she really trained her hearing for it, she could hear the faintest clinking of wooden windchimes in the distance. “Kakariko Forest,” she realized. Her face split in a smile brighter than the fire.

She leaned towards him, enthusiasm gleaming in her eyes. “Your home in Hateno. I get to have a personal tour of your favorite parts of Hyrule.” She sounded like she thought she was lucky.

“Find home in one another… Maybe the riddle is easier than we thought. I probably just have to visit all of your favorite spots.”

He thought that was rather optimistic, but not unreasonable. So why was he uneasy about it? It all felt so… personal. These are places that held some kind of meaning to him. Link voiced none of these qualms, only made about cleaning up their meal and returning the wares to the kitchen.

When Link returned from his home, he wore an old pair of Hylian trousers and carried something in his hand.

“Here,” he extended it to Zelda, not meeting her eye. “You’ll… probably want these.”

She examined the black fabric and unfolded it to reveal a pair of form-fitting shorts. It was identical to the ones he’d worn in the caves, except clean and dry. He would have given her something more substantial, but he doubted his narrow frame would allow it. It would certainly be easier than carrying a blanket. Zelda smiled a grimace. “… Thanks, but… how did you—”

“Just a guess,” Link answered a little too quickly, a little too forcefully.

He gave her privacy while he lit the torch and packaged the leftovers to snack on while they explored. Something nostalgic about this place sighed in his ears. It reminded him of nights spent alone here (or the real version of here) sparring with the trees or communing with his thoughts.

“Why Kakariko Forest?” says Zelda softly, just behind him. Her voice was soft despite her curiosity.

Link thought about remaining silent, if just because he was more comfortable in it. It would be a waste of time if he had to make her understand _why_ these places are special to satisfy the riddle.

“I would go here to be alone, practicing with the sword. Collecting fireflies. Listening to the wooden chimes. It was peaceful.”

Zelda hummed quietly, trying to siphon off as much peace from his memory as she could.

Link lead them in a direction he hadn’t explored yet. To his pleasant surprise, he watched the trees narrow to golden, glittering birches. Autumn colors and sparse brush opened to a natural clearing. “Akkala?” guessed Zelda.

Link nods. It feels strange standing here. For some reason, he felt like he should be training. Instead, he just lit a lantern.

“When my father was transferred to Akkala Citadel, I was too young to make it on my own. I moved with him. I wanted to be just like him when I got older.” Link’s neutral expression became marginally warmer. “He’d come out here to train me in the woods. I wouldn’t let him sleep otherwise.”

He laughed to himself, just a breath. “I was such an obnoxious kid.”

Zelda watched him relive a memory, aweing at the woods around him. He’d never mentioned his father to her. “It’s hard to imagine you ever being loud or demanding.”

His eyes hardened. He was back in reality. “Responsibility changes you.” Link’s eyes met hers across the torch. Zelda of all people should be able to understand that. “I have a duty to Hyrule. To you.”

Zelda’s heart wilted.

“Your father…”

“He died a couple years ago.” Link had no outward reaction to his own words. “I decided to travel to Hyrule Castle soon after that to take a shot at pulling the sword. You became my charge not long after.”

Zelda looked crestfallen. She’d been so callous and unkind to the Knight at first. It was just assumed that he was perfect and had no real problems of his own. Zelda didn’t know he’d just lost his parent. He was grieving and she had acted like a spoiled child.

She let the silence settle between them. Cicadas and wind filled it.

After a long moment, she spoke. “Your dad would be proud of who you’ve become.”

His ice-blue eyes defrosted.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They explored the corners of his happy memories together. Despite himself, Link settled into the comfort of their simple ritual: He’d light another lantern, relive another memory, and share the joy of it with Zelda.

_This is the Zora River where Mipha taught me to swim when we were children._

_This is the field where I befriended Epona._

_This is Hateno Beach where my dad would take me to climb for palm fruit._

_This is Hyrule field where we found a silent princess flower._

Each repetition left them in better spirits. If they’re going to be trapped anywhere, an island of happy memories is not a bad option.

They explored the mountain behind his house where he used to sunbathe, finally able to see the entire island lit up from scores of lanterns dotted about. Tiny pockets of dark clung to the outskirts of the fires but were negligible. Link’s body complained of fatigue, but his mind was too enraptured to let it consider rest.

Strange to see all of his happy memories miniaturized in a bird’s-eye view.

Something blue flashed in the distance, then disappeared.

Link lit what they believed was the final lantern. Zelda’s voice broke him out of his hunter’s focus. “All of your happy memories seem to involve you being at peace,” she commented lightly. He hadn’t seen her in this good of a mood since before Mount Lanayru.

He nodded. It’s strange how foreign it feels to him. It’s like the memory of peace taunted him, knowing he wouldn’t ever truly have it until after his role as Hero was complete.

“Hey, what’s that in there?” Link turned and followed her eyes to a set of arched wooden double-doors installed in what appeared to be rock. It looked like it didn’t belong. All of the other memories were obvious and open. Why is there a place hidden from them?

He shook his head, not immediately recognizing it. Upon approach, he felt something twisting uneasily in his gut.

Zelda reached out to grasp on the heavy iron ring of the door handle, when she stopped. “Wait… I recognize this.” The Princess cocked her head, studying the door, hand hovering just shy of it.

That’s when Link realized where this door went. His blood went cold.

“Uah! How about we—Let’s just not go in there.”

Zelda stared at him through her lashes suspiciously. _Well now I’m definitely going in._ She grasped the handles and flung the heavy doors ajar, despite Link pleading with her to wait.

It was… her bedroom.

Zelda strode into the space, familiar with the shape of the castle walls and her study. Her bed was overflowing with comforters and pillows but was unmade. She almost never returned to her room to find it wasn’t already made for her.

She turned back to watch Link watch her.

He looked embarrassed.

“Link… what is this?”

She watched the knight swallow and put on his knight face. “It’s… your bedroom.”

Zelda placed a hand on her hip. “I know that. What’s it doing in your subconscious?”

“It was my post when you became my charge,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “I guess I was proud I’d earned the honor of guarding the Princess?”

Link is talented and proficient in many things but lying is not one of them.

The aforementioned Princess was having none of it. She turned her eyes to swords that sliced clean through him. _What are you not telling me?_

Link could take some serious damage in a fight but couldn’t stand more than a few seconds of that stare before he broke. Rubbing his neck, he finally admitted, “I…” Would like to leave. “Was in here alone. My watch had ended, and you had business to attend to. No one was around…”

Zelda crossed her arms, looking superior. _Say it._

“I slept in your bed.” Zelda looked surprised but not upset. Link wouldn’t look at her. “I was just so tired! And it looked so soft.” He knew the rotations of the other guards. There wasn’t any way he’d be found. Just a power nap.

Zelda laughed, “Link… that’s not that big of a deal.” Zelda had slept in his bed just a while ago.

To him it was. He still seemed nervous, his cheeks burning. “Wait… what are you not telling me?”

His face was a study in color theory.

“I…” He trailed off, “It’s under your bed.”

Zelda’s face contorted in outrage. _He didn’t. _She prepared to tear him a new one, when she realized he was crouched, eying the underside of the frame. “Hey! What’re you—Oh.”

Two glowing yellow eyes stared back, alarmed and cornered.

Link snapped a photo with the slate.

Both turned to stare at the slate at the same time. An image displayed back of the spooked creature. It was four-legged like a dog but shaped to move differently. Quieter.

The Hyrule Compendium labeled the creature.

“It’s called a… Kittee.” Zelda’s brows furrowed at the slate. “How strange. There’s no description for the creature. Its entry is just blank.”

The whole room was full of firelight. It didn’t have any other pockets of pitch darkness to disappear into. They glanced at each other and spoke without words. _What do we do with it?_

Link decided for them. They needed to study it closer. He laid prostrate on the floor, hands extended, grasping for the creature. It shrank away behind a cluttered stack of books; Link pushed it aside. He was determined to capture it and inspect it for clues on how to complete the shrine.

To his surprise, the creature pulled back lips and _hissed_ back at him. Two rows of tiny Lynel-like fangs displayed ferociously at him. It made a sound like no animal he’d ever heard and swiped at his hands.

“Ah!” Link recoiled, skin bursting with the cold heat of pain. “It has swords on its hands!”

“Link, just back out of there!” For the creature’s sake, and for Zelda’s.

Link rolled away and inspected his hand, which sported four long stripes of hard scratches. His efforts had caused a mess of the things underneath and now his skin. Zelda chanced a look down at the creature. It looked scared. Empathy clutched her heart.

“There must be a kinder approach to this,” Zelda sighs. She took Link’s bag and fished out their leftovers from earlier. She plucked a mushroom and proffered it to the space between her and the creature. Its nose wiggled, but it made no move to accept the gift. She reached back into the bag, switched the offering. The roasted bird leg definitely captured its attention more.

She left the meat under the bed and moved away from it, giving the animal space to decide what it wanted to do.

“Link… I have a feeling we’re not supposed to harm it. It looks so scared. I feel bad for it.”

He sat up, nursing his wounded hand. Historically, creatures that glow like that have been utterly harmless. So much for that.

“I wasn’t gonna hurt it,” he said, as if that would make his hand un-scratched.

Zelda snorted back at him, then bent to peer under the bed again. Both the Kittee and the meat had vanished.

“It’s gone!”

Link laid on his belly again, pushing debris and clutter out of his way to confirm that the space below the bed was truly vacant. He sat up and sighed, rolled his shoulders. “We’ll get it soon enough. None of us are going anywhere. Besides, I’m not sure how it would have anything to do with the riddle.”

He’d made a mess of the things under the bed, mostly books. That’s nothing out of the usual for Zelda’s room. What _was _unusual however was how quickly Zelda jumped in to help him shove it back under the bed.

Link didn’t say anything, but he thinks he understood when a crimson book caught his attention. It seemed minted much more recently than any other study materials she owned. Despite his better judgement, he reached for it.

When he stilled, Zelda froze. The book he held in his hands made her want to fling it clear across the room. The title read: _A Dissertation on Voe Sexuality by Race. _The author’s name sounded Gerudo in origin. His brows furrowed and a series of thoughts flashed unbidden across his face: Curiosity, confusion, realization, perturbation, and curiosity again.

“Link, I would advise you not to—"

_Wait no don’t!_

Link flipped open the book to a random page. It looked mostly scholarly and laid out in textbook format. He turned a page, and Zelda watched as something caught between shock, horror, and fascination crossed his eyes.

_Oh. It has detailed illustrations._

Zelda’s script handwriting filled the margins with notes. That did explain a few things.

Link snapped the spine closed, and finally realized that Zelda was still sitting there. Heat rose from her neck to the tips of her ears.

Because he’s a kind person, he said nothing. Just a grimace of apology.

Link shook the harrowed expression from his face and continued cleaning the mess he’d made like nothing had happened. _Knight face._

Zelda wanted to crawl into her own skin and out of existence. She opened her mouth to explain, "I..." He flinched, wanting her to drop it. A thought occurred to her at the exact same moment. Wait a second. "Link, did you... already know about that book?" Inexplicably, her voice wasn't accusatory.

He violently shook his head, waving his hands. "No! I swear."

Zelda's face lacked in anger or even embarrassment as she thought about something.

“Link… this is your memory. How can there be something in here that you didn’t know about?”

Huh. Hadn’t thought about that. He shrugged, falling just short of meeting her eye. With everything put away, he pulled out the slate and sat on the edge of the bed. He’d wisely taken a picture of the riddle.

> _The path home will reveal itself,  
_ _When one is nurturing,  
_ _And a home is found inside another._

Link frowned at the image, contemplating something. Zelda joined him at his side. He looked like he had the beginning of an idea, but it was just out of reach. He was tired. The knight scrubbed his face, stubbornly trying to get his brain to work.

“Link…” Zelda interrupted, gently prying the slate away from him. “You’re not going to accomplish anything like this.”

He looked like he was going to object but Zelda’s hard stare silenced him. _So stubborn. _Who knows how long he’s been going without rest?

“Come on, lay down. I can take it from here,” she urged gently.

_What?_

Scarlet terror broke out on his face like a rash, much to her amusement. "P-Princess!"

She couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking, and she wasn’t going to ask. “Get some rest,” she clarified mercifully, “I’ll keep exploring.”

It was as if she’d told him to lay down on a bed of nails. He regarded the fine sheets and plush blankets like they might bite him.

“I bet it’s as soft as you remember,” she cajoled. He stilled, and she watched the hair on his arms rise. Huh, that’s odd.

He cleared his throat and breathed mechanically. “I’m good. Let’s keep moving.”

Ugh. Like putting a toddler to bed. Zelda rolled her eyes and pulled out the big guns. “Link, I order you to lay down.” Pulling rank always seemed to work.

In one fluid motion, she stood and pushed the center of his chest. He cried out and hit the mattress, feeling it swallow him whole. It’s softer than he remembered! He’d slept on straw mattresses and bedrolls his whole life. The previous two nights' rests had been sitting in the snow and laying on freezing rock, respectively.

His face turned into the pillow and he’d disappeared into the down covers before he’d even realized he’d moved. Zelda stifled her laughter as he became a Link-cocoon and immediately passed out.


	11. Trapdoor

~*~*~*~*~*~

Would they age down here, she wondered?

The slate still said 5:48 PM -39*F.

She imagined herself feeble and Link hunched with age hobbling out to defeat Ganon and laughed. Apparently, her sense of humor had gotten dark as of late.

She’d lit a lantern in her study for Link and taken the torch for herself.

Descending the stairs, Zelda perused the familiar space. Same windows, same workdesk littered with papers, same everything. Most of her memories of this place were of wanting to escape. To go explore, to learn more about the Sheikah, to actually do something useful with herself other than praying and hoping. At the time, Link’s presence during his watches only exacerbated her frustrations.

She fingered the title of a text she had never gotten around to reading. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it to reveal the pages were blank. For science, she opened a book she knew well; Every word appeared, clear as ever on the page.

“It’s... a mix of both of our memories?” she murmured to herself.

Everything in the room was the exact same in a way he couldn’t possibly have remembered. Except… had she always had that rug?

Zelda kicked the rug aside, revealing a wooden trapdoor panel in the floor. That definitely wasn’t there before. She looked over her shoulder and confirmed that, yes, Link was still deep in sleep. The door stared at her, waiting for her to make a decision.

These are his memories. While walking around on the surface felt easy and peaceful, she couldn’t shake the feeling that going _down_ was something she wasn’t supposed to do.

She’d assured him that she would keep trying to solve the riddle, so that’s what she was going to do.

Her mind made up, Zelda stuck her fingers into the hole and pulled up the trapdoor with a creak. Link didn’t so much as stir.

Gingerly, she descended the ladder with torch in hand. It deposited her in… a tent. Her tent. Her notebook laid on her bedroll. Another torch sat by her bedside. She lit it like she would any lantern, leaving it to burn for eternity.

In her notebook was just more observations on Sheikah technology. It really didn't give any indication of what could be so odd about this memory.

She opened the tent flap and stepped outside into a grass clearing. A shallow pool and waterfall in Faron she thought she recognized trickled into the infinite darkness. She followed a landing of earth behind the fall, and she found herself somewhere else entirely: the Kakariko inn.

The memories continued dizzyingly fast like that. A grass field, a shack with a fireplace, a platform of Sheikah make. Place after place that Zelda distantly remembered but had no real emotional attachment to. Without Link here to provide her context, it all seemed meaningless.

Still, she lit each lantern she came across.

While moving through a narrow cave hallway, she came upon a door. It was Gerudo make. Curious, she went to open it, but found it wouldn’t budge. Trying to set it on fire did nothing; No amount of force would pry it open; Peeking through the space between the slats bore her nothing.

“Hm.” Zelda hummed to herself, “Perhaps it’s not meant to be opened.”

She gave up and continued past it further into the cave hallway. It was the longest transition between the memories, by far.

She smelled something deeply familiar. It was water. Specifically, the earthy smell of water inside of a cave. 

What she saw as she passed the threshold gave her pause.

_I should turn back._

Her legs carried her forward without her input. Despite the horns of alarm blaring in her ears, Zelda lit the lantern.

It was a dead end.

She definitely knew this place.

Steam puffed invitingly from the warm pools. Snakes of light danced on the ceiling. A hair band floated on the surface.

An inscription on the wall.

It was the hot spring.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link had never slept so well in his life.

Clean clothes and a clean bed are things that go so easily unappreciated. He was warm all the way through, and the heavy weight of the plush comforters pressed him further into the ever-kind mattress.

If he’s going to be stuck anywhere, this would be his first choice.

In fact, he very well may be trapped, because he didn’t think he could get out of this bed even if he wanted to.

Link sighed a happy little noise, stretching his toes out against the impossibly high thread-count.

The pillow smelled like her: cool safflina and tall grass.

Sleep and wakefulness waltzed with one another behind his eyes. It was wakefulness that took the lead and he inhaled deeply. Link rumbled and rolled over, finding a new flavor of comfort altogether.

He heard a soft, mechanical sound just in front of him.

Link’s brows twitched in confusion and he blearily pried his eyes apart.

He saw green ones staring back at him.

“Ah!” Alarm shot through Link’s veins like icewater. Link reeled away like she’d hit him.

Zelda sat on her workdesk chair, a playful but otherwise harmless expression on her face. The slate rested on her knees, and she appraised the screen for a moment. That harmless expression turned roguish and she turned the slate around for him to see.

It was a picture of his face, mouth parted in sleep.

“Got you.”

Link blinked at it, nonplussed.

The slate made a sound as she saved the image.

“You… sure did?” Couldn’t she wait until he was more awake to mess with him? What time was it? Wait, dumb question. He scrubbed his face, trying to wake up.

Zelda seemed satisfied with herself. “I’ve been trying to figure out the riddle,” she began, playing with the slate. “Well, turns out I was wrong. I’m relatively certain I visited every memory in this place. All of the lanterns are lit but we’re still stuck here.” Link processed this information and sat up. Something about her was different.

She was trying and failing to not to look nervous.

“I…” Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared it. “Well, I… think I made a mistake.” She fidgeted with her hair, not meeting his eye.

Link didn’t say anything, but his expression wasn’t hostile either.

“I explored the area while you were asleep and found, well…” He followed her eyes to the trapdoor on the far side of the room. It was open.

Link felt dread kick his stomach into his feet. _What is that?_

“I lit all of the lanterns. I checked everywhere on this island, and there’s no more to light. Just having me visit them doesn’t seem to satisfy the riddle. Nothing’s changed.”

Why does it sound like she was leaving out something very important?

“The ones in there. What… were they about?”

Zelda looked away, discomfited. “Well, the first one is this memory—” She gestured vaguely to the room at large, “—And the last memory is something we were both there for. None of the others made sense to me.”

It sounded like she was establishing a pattern, but Link was too thunderstruck to think of what. “I know that, for whatever reason, you’re embarrassed of this one. And the last…”

She trailed off. Link combed his mind for any one of the horrifying memories he would prefer not to have anyone access, let alone Zelda. The options were not looking great.

He held his breath.

“I think I may have accidentally explored a part of your mind you might not have wanted me to.” She hooked her hand on the back of her neck.

Link’s face darkened, and he visibly fought against whatever he was thinking about. Refusing to get flustered, Link focused on the riddle. “So, visiting the places and lighting the lanterns alone isn’t enough.”

“I’m afraid not.”

She needs to understand the memory, not just stand near it. Link wasn’t sure what was down there, but he definitely didn’t like where this was going. “It would be unlike you to not have any theories.”

“Well…” She pulled up the picture of the puzzle, “’When one is nurturing… and home is found in another.’ If the trial has me exploring your memories, it’s like I’m inside your head, in a way. Like your mind is the ‘other’ I’m supposed to make myself at home with. Maybe telling me what each place represents is a form of ‘nurturing.’”

Link swallowed, “How can you possibly feel at home in a memory I’m repressing?”

Her shoulders dropped. “I guess that’s what makes this a challenge. The trial must have sampled something that you’re ashamed of to test us.” She tapped her finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Unless… my goal is to make _you_ feel at home in them. Since you clearly aren’t at the moment. That would make me the nurturer.”

For some reason, Link liked that even less.

“Home is the theme of this trial, I’m guessing. Like how the first trial was sharing, the second was giving, and the third was faith. All of those things were accomplished mutually. Therefore… it could very well be that both cases are true.”

He seemed to be thinking about her line of logic. The Link he had been back in Hebra would have flung himself headlong to the floor to make a break for it, and he considered doing just that. But somehow in this twisted dreamscape she seemed to make sense.

“This is… a lot to ask of me,” Link admits.

The Hero of Hyrule looking so vulnerable is a rare thing. Zelda’s eyes softened at him. Everyone has corners of their mind they themselves preferred to avoid, let alone explain to someone else.

“I know. We don’t have to if you’re not ready. This island is… nice. And I rather like the reprieve from the responsibilities of being the Princess.”

Link knew a kindness when he heard it and nodded gratefully.

They couldn’t stay here forever, and they knew it. Places that are cozy at first become cramped all too quickly. Being surrounded by some of his favorite memories only reminded him that he wouldn’t be able to make more. A memory of happiness and actually _being_ happy are two different things.

Link squared his shoulders, an impressive feat for someone in a plush bed.

“I’ll do what it takes to complete the trial,” he intones. Zelda didn’t reprimand him for the return to his knightly demeanor.

Zelda watched him do nothing, say nothing, reveal nothing, for a long while.

Finally, she stood from her chair and crossed to the far side of the bed. It sent the knight’s anxiety skyrocketing, but she settled demurely on top of the covers and kept a respectable distance. “Link… perhaps we could just start with this memory?”

His face darkened, and he made a sound like he’d just been dropped off a mountain.

Despite herself, Zelda couldn’t hide the sympathetic mirth in her eyes. _Poor guy._

“I’m sure it’s not nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

She was genuinely trying to be comforting, and Link sensed it.

He searched for words, trying to access the memory without getting completely overwhelmed by it.

“My shift had just ended. I was so, _so_ tired. You had left to go attend to business with the Minister of Trade. The guard who replaced me followed you, and the door was left open…” Zelda nodded patiently. He’d already told her most of this. “I knew no one else would be coming through for several hours. So I gave in.”

She watched his face twist, and he swiped his hand down it. “It was so soft… I’ve only ever slept on the ground or on straw. When I woke up…” He refused to meet her eye. “You’ve gotta understand: I’ve never felt anything as soft as these sheets. And it smelled like you— I didn’t know you, at the time! We’d exchanged only a few words at that point.”

Zelda thought she was beginning to understand. Her eyes cut back at him, only as sharp as a wooden sparring sword. “You’d just been assigned to the Princess of Hyrule.” And found yourself in her bed.

He nodded, guilty. “In between sleep and wakefulness, your mind plays tricks on you…”

Something about the way he said that. She felt a thrill rush through her.

His molars creaked as he ground them together.

“Are you saying…?” Zelda tries, amusement getting the better of her.

_The stoic knight, curled in her bed, acting completely against protocol, tormented by his own poor call of judgement._

The whites of Link’s eyes showed. “Wha—No! No! Horrified, I realized what was happening, jumped out, and went straight to the barracks. I never made the same mistake twice.”

He’s imperfect, but he’s not a degenerate!

Zelda looked entertained, but not scathing. So _that’s_ why he was so hesitant to rest! She shook her head affectionately, “That’s… embarrassing, I’ll give you that.” Link looked wounded. “But not unforgivable, Link.”

Her kind tone gave him the courage to tentatively meet her gaze.

“See? That wasn’t so… bad…?" She trailed off, looking just past him. Her voice was high and sweet all of a sudden, “Hi, there.”

A glowing feline watched them from the doorway, tail low, but face interested. Was it just Zelda’s imagination, or had it gotten a little bigger?

Its ears flattened when it made eye contact with Link, clearly disliking his stare. However, they swiveled intermittently towards Zelda. Careful not to make any sudden movements, she slid from the bed and crouched with her hand extended.

“It’s okay. I mean you no harm.” Her soft, sweet voice had the effect of the Kittee wiggling its nose at her in interest.

Cautiously, it stalked towards her, ready to bolt at any second. Its golden tail was stretched straight out in line with its spine. Link and Zelda both held their breath.

The Kittee sniffed Zelda’s hand, soft little nose brushing her finger. Zelda’s heart was about to melt. “Aww… hello. That’s a good Kittee.”

It seemed to remember Link. Spooked, the skittish creature bolted out the door and out of sight.

Link threw back the sheets to chase after it, but Zelda stopped him. “Wait, let it go. I think it’ll keep returning to us.”

He tamped down on his prey drive and looked back to Zelda. 

“Was it just me, or had it grown slightly larger?” asks Zelda.

Link nodded. They were thinking the same thing.

They both knew what that meant. “It’s… a reflection of us doing well in terms of the trial.”

It was a sign that meant they were right: they had to continue into the trapdoor to complete the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I am so humbled by all of your feedback and kudos. I cannot thank you enough for reading.


	12. Shame

~*~*~*~*~*~

Making the leap of faith off of the stairs was easier than this, Link thought. He stared down at the open trapdoor like it was a pair of grizzlemaw jaws.

Link started at a hand resting on his shoulder.

“Link, really, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she reminded him gently.

He snorted, not really a laugh. Clearly, he didn’t share that sentiment.

It was clear that he was working up courage to descend the ladder, to be done with this, and Zelda made every attempt to help. “There’s no mind that is free of… dark corners.” Link’s manicured neutral expression cracked and he turned to her, anxious. “Whatever it is down there, I promise not to think any less of you.”

He scoured her for any hint of a lie. It seemed like a promise she couldn’t possibly keep, but her eyes were earnest.

Link nodded, resolved, and climbed down the ladder.

He clearly didn’t like what he saw. He was in her tent. But it wasn’t just her tent; Her bed was _right _there and he smelled the rich earth of Zora woods, and he knew it as a _moment, _not as a place.

Zelda watched him stare at the notebook and the bed. Shamefaced, he knelt and picked up the book.

“What is this, Link?” she asks gently. “I don’t see anything out of the usual.”

Link swallowed. “I… heard you talking from outside. I thought you’d summoned me, but you were sleeping.” He watched the memory projected onto his eyes. “I didn’t catch what you said but I think you were having a nightmare. You said my name.”

Zelda looked confused, clearly not recalling.

“It… hurt. I didn’t know why you’d have a nightmare about me. I just wanted to know why you hated me so much. I saw the notebook and…” He thumbed the leather binding, shame written on his face. “I thought it was your journal.”

Any reprimand Zelda was building died before words formed. _He really did feel bad about it._

“You read it.”

He nodded. “It’s just field notes.” Clearly, he knew that didn’t make it right.

“But you were about to violate my trust,” she whispered, no bite to her voice. “That’s why you’re so ashamed of it.”

Link nodded.

Zelda chose not to say anything, just handed him the torch as a sign that it was time to move on. Link sighed and followed her out of the tent flap, rolling his shoulders. This was going to be a long walk down memory lane.

When he opened his eyes, he was in Faron. A shallow pool tinkled like the wings of fairies. Diaphanous steam plumed from the falls feeding into it, reflecting moonlight that wasn’t there. Tropical plants and banana leaves enclosed all the way around and made the area feel secluded.

Zelda approached the pool, brows furrowed in concentration. She could have sworn she’s been here before.

Her bare feet in the cool water, she turned back and waited for Link to explain.

Link worried at the back of his head. Clearly, this whole trial was getting under his skin. Zelda allotted him the patience of a Princess, knowing that this can’t possibly be easy for him.

“You’d asked for some privacy…” he began, and Zelda’s face paled. “—And I’d done as you asked. I was a respectful distance away, listening for danger.” He made eye contact with her, just to prove that he was telling the truth. Zelda had just been firmly reminded not to jump to conclusions.

“There was something red and black in the underbrush. It was heading your direction. I followed it, trying to see what it was.” Link eyed a particular shore of the pool, reliving the memory. “It was a Yiga clansman. He’d apparently been waiting for us to become separated so he could get to you.”

He was stoic, but Zelda knew from the cord jumping in his neck that he was angry.

Link walked a few paces towards the underbrush, just shy of the clearing. He was remembering. “I came up behind him here and disposed of him.” Which is a very tactful way to say _slit his throat._

Zelda blinked at him, confused.

“It doesn’t sound like you had done anything wrong. You were fulfilling your duty to protect me. If anything, I would expect you to be proud of that?”

Link stood in exactly the same place that he’d killed the clansman. He turned and looked towards the waterfall. Zelda followed his eyes, concentrating, and then it hit her. She’d once bathed in them.

_He had an unobstructed view of me._

Something devious and evil in her applauded.

She thinks she knows why he’s so ashamed of this memory.

“How long?”

“Too long.” He had this angry look on his face, but he definitely wasn’t upset with her. He was railing against himself. “I’m sorry. I tried to suppress this memory. I did. But I guess…”

Something glimmered in Zelda’s eye.

“Guess it didn’t work.” She had a piece of vanity stuck in her teeth.

Link cast her a pleading look. _Be nice._

Zelda sighed and shook her head. Right, ‘nurturing,’ like the riddle said.

She tried again, much nicer this time. “Link, remember how you told me that I don’t give myself enough credit?” He nodded, eyes narrowed. “Not every obstacle is a personal failure. Those are your words.” Zelda eyed him meaningfully, waiting for him to pick up on what she was trying to convey.

_Just because something went wrong, it doesn’t make you a failure._

_You aren’t suddenly a knight without honor because you forgot yourself for a moment._

Her words got under his skin and he rubbed his neck, chagrinned. That really was the kindest thing she could say to him at that moment, wasn’t it? She was fulfilling her end of the riddle.

“I thought… that I’d heard something,” Zelda said, straining her memory. “I thought I saw something in the brush move. I didn’t suspect my _stoic knight_.”

Link’s ears burned with embarrassment and he shot her a glower. _Now you’re just being mean_. “Can we please move on?”

Zelda laughed, unable to help herself. It’s endearing how utterly harmless the Hero of Hyrule is. “Sure.”

Zelda followed the same path she’d found that led behind the waterfall. That’s when Zelda realized they weren’t alone. This time, she wasn’t alarmed.

Neon blue glowed as the Kittee perched on a treebranch. It was only the slightest bit bigger than the last appearance. Zelda smiled at the creature that seemed braver now that it was eye-level with her. “Do you wanna come with? We’re mortifying our favorite knight,” she cooed to the creature, much to Link’s dismay.

The Kittee cocked its head and answered her. “Grr-reow?”

Zelda squeaked with affection at the noise, resisting the urge to pick it up and coddle it to death. “Yeah? Is that so?” she extends her hand, and the Kittee sniffs, then bonks its head into her knuckles. “Eee! Link! _Link! Look!”_

With arms crossed, the knight watched the exchange. His face was neutral, but a smile beamed from his eyes. Zelda’s enormous, genuine grin nearly ripped her in two. This Zelda was far and away from the person strapped with the burden of royalty. She’d managed to cajole the Kittee into letting her scratch it’s chin, which by all appearances it seemed to love.

“I’m going to cry,” complains Zelda.

Link laughed to himself and reached into his pocket to extend a chunk of meat to the glowing feline. If it had the ability to make Zelda that overjoyed, he’d happily reward it. After eyeing him suspiciously, it decided that he wasn’t a threat, accepted the gift, and scampered higher into the tree and out of view.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“What is this place? I’ve never even been here.”

Link cast her a look. _It’s not all about you. _“You weren’t involved,” he says instead. “This is the Kakariko Inn.”

She watched him expectantly, wearing her Princess face on the outside as best she could. It looked cozy, all in cool violet tones and soft beds.

Clearing his throat, Link gently touched the unoccupied counter. “The Innkeeper was away, and his son was left to watch the inn during his absence. It was empty.” Link’s cheeks reddened in an away that Zelda couldn’t help finding adorable. “He, uh… offered me a free bed so long as I was willing to share it.”

Zelda smirked sidelong at him. “And?”

“I turned him down!” barks Link, scandalized.

The guile she wielded was sharp. “But you were tempted.”

“Zelda!”

She poked his arm good-naturedly. “You were! Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here.”

Link looked profoundly uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Zelda could see plain as day that she’d called it. “Link, it’s a little harsh to be ashamed that you resisted temptation.”

“I’m… ashamed I was tempted at all.” Zelda puzzled that out for a moment. He offered a clue, “To use a person.”

“It sounds like he was more tempted to use you, if anything.”

He didn’t rise to her playful goading. “Doesn’t matter.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

They found themselves in the center of an open field, lit only by their torches and the burning lantern. Much to his dismay, this was the field where he’d taught her the basics of horsemanship. Yet another memory he’d much prefer to just breeze over.

_Her riding pants… Her very poor form in handling the bounce of a trot._

Zelda looked like she was a cross between flattered and affronted, which certainly didn’t help him feel any better. She reassured him she wasn’t angry, and he pretended to believe her.

After that was the shack where he recovered from a fight with a Lynel. She’d offered to help bind the wound on his back and when he refused, she’d just ordered him to disrobe. 

_That’s hardly my fault._

Something about ordering him to do something got under his skin.

Zelda was trying to be nurturing, she really was. However, watching him try to suppress a memory he presently occupied was endlessly entertaining.

_Poor guy._

This hasn't been an utter disaster, all things considered. Link, bless his little heart, has performed stupendously. He managed to collect all of the dignity he had left, just to drop it over and over again. It’s like trying to carry an armful of hot-footed frogs.

Zelda mercifully kept her teasing to a minimum. After all, he’s being forced to express his innermost shameful memories. The least she could do is not be mean about it.

In none of these had he _really_ done anything wrong. Staring a few moments too long or resisting temptations are ignoble at worst, forgivable at best.

Something about the idea that he had to keep these memories suppressed to stay sane made her want to wield them at will.

They were shadowed by the glowing blue Kittee, which happily took Zelda up on her offer to mortify Link. They moved on from the shack, following the path towards the lantern glowing up ahead. “Link, can I be honest with you?”

Link gestured:_ Might as well._

“If these really are your most shameful memories,” he flinched. A few words could snap the Hero in half. “Then I am of the opinion that you’re being unnecessarily hard on yourself.”

Link swallowed. He knew she was trying to be kind, but he really didn’t believe her.

“I’m serious. You’re imperfect which, quite frankly, is refreshing. But, truly, you haven’t _done_ all that much wrong.”

Link dreaded the approaching lantern. He wished the darkness would swallow him whole. With ruddy cheeks, he failed to return her gaze. The longer she watched him, the more she got the sense that he was withholding something from her.

She insisted, “I had no idea about _any_ of this until, well, the trial thrust it upon us. I suspected you to be of Sheikah make, not Hylian.” That at least got a weak laugh out of him.

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Zelda huffed, exasperated. “Link, not every action or inaction is ascribed a level of ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. Some of them just ‘are.’” Link was surprised, and Zelda pressed while she had him on his heels, “Yes, these memories might be… unseemly, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re morally reprehensible.”

It seemed like she’d gotten her point across. He silently processed what she had to say, his jaw flexing under the strain.

“I’m… under so much pressure.” He was so quiet, Zelda nearly didn’t hear him. “I have to be perfect at all times. For Hyrule. For you.”

_She knew the feeling._ Zelda’s empathy reached out to touch, but he was closed off.

“I have to be the Hero. There’s no room for me to be anyone else.” He cleared his throat and stared at his free hand in the torchlight.

“You’re the one who told me that we’re more than just our titles,” she reminded him gently. He held his elbow self-consciously at having his words thrown back at him. Link didn’t answer her. “Take it from me: You can’t always be the Hero of Hyrule. You’ll lose your sanity.”

Zelda thought she just figured out something about him. He wasn’t just expecting himself to _act_ knightly at all times, he was expecting his _thoughts_ to be knightly at all times. That seems profoundly unfair.

_Nearly freezing to avoid sharing a tent with her._

_Refusal to look at her in the caves._

_Link remaining stock still as she kissed him._

_The molten intensity in his eyes when his control broke._

He's so restrained. He's too scared to be any other way. He watched her with wide eyes, wriggling like a lizard impaled on a blade.

Zelda offered him a genuine smile and set her hand on his arm. “Link… you’re kind to everyone except yourself.”

She watched fear tentatively vacate his eyes, replaced by warmth.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The lantern protruded from a round platform. It was clearly Sheikah make, but of what model Zelda couldn’t place. “What is this place?”

Link refused to step onto the platform, his feet rooted to the dirt around it. He clearly recognized it.

“Vah Rutah.”

To Zelda’s surprise, she watched grief possess him. He was reliving a memory that he wanted to keep at arm’s length. He wasn’t flustered from anything inane the way he had been for the other memories. He was sad.

Zelda didn’t say anything; She was scared to break him.

Link sat on the ledge and stared off into the endless black distance. Even without looking at the trunk of Vah Rutah, sitting here still triggered the memory without his consent.

He felt a weight on his thigh; Two glowing paws stood on him, a creature sniffing at his face. Even Kittee was worried about him. He unconsciously pet the creature’s soft back without really looking at it.

“I hurt my arm in Eldin. When we realized that the strength and frequency of the monsters in Hyrule was increasing.” Zelda nodded even though he couldn’t see. She remembered. “We went to Zora’s Domain to check in on the status of Vah Ruta. That’s when Mipha healed me here.”

That didn’t sound like anything he could be ashamed of.

“She… We’ve been friends since we were children. She expressed that she wanted more…”

Though she hadn’t said so in any explicit terms, there weren’t any mixed signals. She was clear with her interest.

Zelda came to sit at his side. It felt like there was something much bigger than just Kittee blocking her from him. “I don’t understand. Why is this memory here?”

Link leaned his elbows on his knees. That was a good question. It shouldn’t be down here. It shouldn’t be on this island at all. Morose memories had no place here. So why…?

“It’s not… a bad memory. It felt good to be loved like that.” Zelda waited, letting him process. “She knew me before I became… this. Me. The Hero. Does that mean she loves someone I'm not?”

When he seemed like he wasn’t going to speak again, she ventured, “You say that like you think she couldn’t possibly love you as you are.”

He turned battered eyes up to her.

“The other memories have all been things you’re ashamed of,” she prompted gently. “But you didn’t do anything in this case. It’s not your fault.”

Kittee seemed to sense that Link was no longer interested in them, so they kneaded Zelda’s leg instead and settled into a blue loaf.

“I… I’m ashamed that I couldn’t return her feelings. Ashamed all I can do is hurt her.”

That wasn’t the answer she expected. “Link… you’re under no obligation to feel any certain way towards anyone.” She realized how it sounded after she’d said it. The trials were a strange animal that neither wanted to tackle in this context.

“I wanted to. But I just… didn’t. I can’t tell if it’s because I truly didn’t love her like that, or if this… _figure_ that I am just took up any space I would’ve had for her.”

Zelda made a soft sound. That one hit a little too close to home for her.

_It’s less about Mipha than about how he’s lacking in any identity outside that of the Hero._

“Just because you’re under pressure doesn’t mean you’re emotionless.” He was listening but hadn’t looked up from the space between his bare feet.

Why did he get the distinct sense that she was speaking from experience?

“It might seem that way when you suppress them all. You’ve fooled everyone else so well that you’ve fooled yourself. Be honest with yourself, do you love her?”

Link’s shoulders dropped, his breath hissing as he pushed it out. She thought he wouldn’t answer. In the silence, she could hear the soft purr of the creature on her leg coming in waves.

Zelda was about to stand and continue forward when he spoke.

“Yes." Link offered her a bittersweet smile. "She’ll always be my dear friend.” 

Had he only just realized that?

“She’s lucky to have you, in any capacity.” Link searched her eyes. What she’d really said was _anyone is lucky to have you in any capacity._

The knight didn’t say anything, but Zelda could see that he was touched. Companionable silence filtered down over the firelit scene.

They listened to Kittee’s purrs of contentment, curled up in Zelda’s lap. Now would probably be a good time to move on, but Zelda was loath to disturb the sleepy creature. Link gently thumbed between its ears.

Zelda’s soft smile grew a little wolfish as a thought occurred to her. “Wait a minute…”

Link watched in growing horror as she wracked her brain.

“Don’t Zora lay eggs?”

“_Zelda!_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my readers so much ;w;  
All of your feedback brightens my day. I'm just gonna have to keep thanking you over and over again.
> 
> Sidebar: Zelda is a cat person and you can't stop me. You're welcome to fight me on it.


	13. Got you

~*~*~*~*~*~

This dark corridor seemed to go on forever. This surreal labyrinth of rock and memory and closed and open space was disorienting. He wouldn’t have considered that his mind would be so complicated.

Kittee had long grown bored with the Hylians’ journey and had left Link and Zelda to their own devices.

“It’s strange how the other memories were compacted so tightly together, but this one is stretched far and away from the rest,” comments Zelda.

Link definitely didn’t like the sound of that.

Zelda could feel his anxiety pulsing off of him. “Hey,” her shoulder bumped him, “It’ll be fine, Link.”

A tense noise came from his chest. “I’ll be calmer when it’s over with.”

_That’s fair._

As they moved through the dark corridor, each wielding their own torch, a door on one wall stood out on the otherwise featureless wall. Link was given pause, but Zelda just continued straight ahead.

When she realized he wasn’t at her side, she stopped. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve already tried everything. It won’t open.”

But he paid her no heed. He _was_ worried about that. Very worried.

The door had the same Gerudo shape any other like it would, only crafted of higher quality. It was reinforced for the protection of royal members.

Link’s ears strained against the deafening crackle of the torches. He heard Zelda’s voice: garbled, faint and unrecognizable. His eyes snapped to Zelda, “What did you say?”

Zelda tightened her brows. “I didn’t say anything.”

Was he losing his mind? He heard her voice again, distinctly different than her clear, spoken word. He watched her critically this time, which had her taken aback. “Why are you looking at me like th—”

“Shh! Zelda, wait.” That’s the second time he’d ever silenced her. Every tiny hair in his ears was focused.

There! He heard it again. He watched her mouth and throat do nothing, say nothing, make _nothing._ But still he heard her voice.

It was coming from behind the door.

“Is… the door some kind of memory?” Why did she have a strange feeling about it?

Link looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He forced himself to nod. Samples of sounds lodged in his subconscious zoomed just past his understanding. Like how he can never examine the shape of an eye floater, he couldn’t pick out what Zelda’s voice was saying. Or even the pitch or tone.

Had he lost his mind?

Zelda staring at him like he had wasn’t doing him any favors.

“You… can’t hear that?” asks Link. Zelda shook her head. Just torches and crackling fire.

Everything in him was screaming _run, run far._ However, for fear of losing his sanity, he leaned forward towards the door just to make sure it wasn’t just his imagination.

That was a huge mistake.

Pressing his ear to the door, the volume was suddenly turned up on not-Zelda’s voice. A loud cry deafened Link and he yelped in surprise. The torch clattered to the ground.

Even seeing her perfectly fine and safe in front of him, his body flooded with adrenaline aimed to protect her.

However, no one was in danger; Neither Zelda, nor the owner of the voice.

Even though he reeled back, the sounds continued to ring in ruthless clarity all around him:

_A low, throaty groan, accompanied by the rustle of sheets. He could hear her gasping breath hitch, whistling through her teeth, strained by an unseen force. _

_Buzzing, low and steady, hidden then revealed. _

_Her needy whine._

Zelda—the real Zelda—was panic stricken. “Link! What’s happening?” He was sweating, face completely darkened as if struck with a sudden fever. The hairs on his arms stood on end.

Link tried to understand her through the wanton sounds of her other voice. “I—” can’t exactly explain this to you.

He collapsed with his back to the door, focused on calming his frayed breathing. He remembered distantly (very distantly) that Zelda had to understand every memory for this to be done. But with all of the _overstimulation_, it was impossible to form a thought let alone a sentence.

“Just listen,” he ground out.

Confused, Zelda tried to follow his instructions. Like she had in Kakariko Forest, she tuned her ears and opened her mind to whatever the memory held for her.

She heard… her own thoughts? No, they weren’t thoughts. But they were her voice. She pressed her ear to the door and listened.

_The sound of her own voice, enraptured with pleasure of her own making. _

Suddenly, she knew this door. It was the one outside her chambers in Gerudo Town. Understanding bludgeoned Zelda over the head. Overhearing her was the memory!

“Is that really what I sound like?”

Link could barely hear her over herself.

_A viscous, slapping sound. Her growl of frustration from chasing a feeling and letting it get away._

Hinox snores. Lynel Breath. King Roam eating a roasted bird leg.

None of it worked! In this world, he’s a victim of his perfect memory. A moment in his life to be played on loop until he went mad. He’s condemned to a lewd groundhog-day. Eternity suddenly seemed a lot longer.

The siren’s song shrieked in his mind, in every cell in his body, and he was helpless against it.

Zelda watched him squirm. Link had the sneaking suspicion that she was stockpiling weapons for a power-trip. He let out a high sound of submission. _Be nice!_

She sat across from him, leaned against the wall. The soundtrack was a lot more extensive than he’d originally let on. Crossing her arms, she decided to leave him like that for a moment, “Serves you right.”

Link’s eyes panned up to hers, distressed.

Nope, that’s not going to work this time. “You followed me into Gerudo Town. I made it clear that I wanted space, and you denied me that.” There was something about her demeanor; Superior and retaliatory made for terrifying bedfellows.

“The—The Yiga.” He was interrupted by not-Zelda and had to start again.

Zelda heard her too but wasn’t quite as fazed. “You would’ve found out about their plan from the outside. I know you would’ve.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Not that Link was going to put up an argument anyway. “You’re right. Let’s get going.” He swallowed and summoned his courage to stand.

But Zelda didn’t. She cocked her brow up at him haughtily. “No.”

_What?_

“Zelda… come on.”

But she knew something he didn’t. She knew the contents of the last memory. He could run away if he wanted, but that would not fulfill the requirements of the riddle. Not that she’s in a rush; They had all of eternity.

“I’d like to see _just_ how long you listened to me, Link.”

There it was. The face that Zelda had alluded to all along. Up until this point, he’d been embarrassed, chagrinned, sheepish, cowed, and outright humiliated.

But now, with the sound of Zelda whimpering in his ear, and another Zelda demanding he stay and listen, she’d achieved the final stage: Mortification.

“Zelda… I said I was sorry. Can we please—”

“Actually, no you didn’t.”

Link just realized she was right. He’d been too flustered to get the words out. Guess she wanted the words to—

_A scratching sound; Nails on fabric._

Zelda watched him freeze. She didn’t even bother to conceal the wicked pleasure she got from it. Even sitting silently, she had a power over him. Without so much as lifting a finger, she’d found the impenetrable fortress that was her appointed knight crumbling before her eyes.

Link gave her a look that expressed he didn’t appreciate her games. Still, he swallowed his pride and said, “Zelda. I really am sorry. It was just such a shock. I cannot suppress this memory any harder. Please, let’s move on.”

That’s probably what she should do. He really was sorry, and she knew it. This is his deepest, darkest corner of his mind. He’d repressed the hell out of it, after all. It was cruel to make him sit through it again.

Zelda gave him a saccharine smile. “I believe you.”

Link almost looked relieved, until he noticed she had just a little _too _much teeth to that smile.

Zelda didn’t care.

She reclined back against the wall and crossed her long legs comfortably. Link watched the smooth motion whether he wanted to or not. “Still, I think I’ll stay and find out exactly when you decided to leave.”

_A sharp intake of breath, then a soft sigh._

Link looked completely and utterly harrowed by the experience. Was she angry at him? Was she just going out of her way to torment him? He couldn’t tell and his brain was lacking in precious resources to try to puzzle it out.

He could leave, but he had the distinct sense that her patience would outlast him. He’d have to convince her to continue forward.

Zelda patted the stone and smiled treacly at him. “Pull up a seat. You’ve got permission this time.”

That makes it far, far worse. Link felt that he really didn’t get a lot of say in the matter. His eyes finally met hers, narrowed and acerbic. She was intent on punishing him. He refused to give her the satisfaction of getting riled up. She’s being _petty._

After all, when she’s at her weakest he must be at his strongest.

Putting on his most stoic expression, the knight sat a few person-widths away from her. His blood howled through his veins and asking him to sit still left him prone to implosion.

He was acutely aware of her watching him. Her eyes could skin a buck from acres away.

_She cursed, something going either very wrong or very right. A heavy object was knocked off the bed and onto the floor, probably a book._

Zelda might not have remembered that exact moment, but her body certainly did. Pangs of arousal tightened her breath. She did what she could not to let it show. 

Link’s eyes scalded her: _I feel plenty punished, thank you very much._ But he couldn’t hold her gaze with that _sound_ in his ears ratcheting his hips closer, tighter together.

“You’re not the only one embarrassed right now,” says Zelda. “I thought I was alone.”

Link wanted to comfort her, to tell her that he was completely at fault, but not-Zelda’s breathing sped up and it was like he could _feel_ it on his neck. Was the memory suffocating him with the Gerudo night air, or was it sweltering here?

He felt like saying sorry again would do nothing.

“I just wanted to _learn._ To experiment in peace.”

Link made a tight, distressed sound. Zelda wasn’t sure which version of her voice had done it to him. A rivulet of sweat trailed down the side of his face. He rolled his head back to send a prayer to the not-ceiling of darkness.

Would Hylia laugh at him from upon her hallowed seat in the heavens, overjoyed with Her grand display of puppeteering prowess? Or would She smite him with the ferocity of a Goddess for daring to disrespect her seraphic reincarnation?

He wasn’t worthy, and he knew it. Yet he had intruded, nonetheless.

Unsure whether Zelda wanted him to speak or not, his eyes met hers. There was a question in them. _Are you really this upset with me?_

Zelda’s stare was heated, boring into his mind. She didn’t answer his question. “You weren’t ashamed of those other memories because you had them,” she accused.

Confused, Link remained silent.

“You’re ashamed of how much they affect you. How they crack your Knight persona.”

Link swallowed, feeling attacked. This was an ambush. He rested his arms across his bent knees, hiding himself from her cunning stare. She held no malice in it, but there was a challenge.

She was challenging him to do what, exactly?

Link’s eyes narrowed back at her dangerously. There was no unclear warning in his voice, “What exactly are you expecting from me right now, _Princess?_”

Great question. Thoughts flicked through her eyes, too fast for Link to read. Finally, she settled on an answer. She leveled him with a cloying smile. “The riddle demands that I make you at home. So that’s what I intend to do.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Hope you’re comfortable.”

Desire flooded him and settled behind his navel.

Link’s face contorted in outrage. Brazen! He wanted to contradict her, to tell her that isn’t what the riddle demands of them, but it was just close enough to the truth that he couldn’t. Not-Zelda sighed softly, a little laugh to herself at some unseen sensation.

He could feel the restraints he’d so carefully secured around himself rattling.

The knight ran his hand through his hair so hard he messed up his ponytail. He leveled her with a dangerous stare, a warning. _You’re being unkind._

Zelda stared back at him royally, _I’m not kind_

He watched her chest heave under his Hylian tunic, nipples pointing towards the door on instinct. Her toes curled without her attention. A soft glow reflected firelight off the surface of her skin.

“You’re enjoying this,” accuses the Knight.

She feigned innocence, which only set him off further.

She was just toying with him again! Sure, she’d reassured him that she’d had no ill-will in the hot springs, but Link couldn’t help feeling cagey. They’re in the literal dark corners of his mind, and she’s using it against him! He can’t possibly be any more contrite or punished.

He refuses to let her lord this power over him.

“Wanna know what I think, Princess?” Link says lowly, deadly calm. He watched as her smug expression waned to anxiety. She didn’t answer him. “I think that you know that this place uses both of our memories for each location. I think because _you _remember that night, it will play out from start to finish. You’re making me stay here for a reason.”

He leaned forward, lupine eyes piercing her with heat.

“I think you want me to hear you finish,” Link growls.

_Not-Zelda mewled salaciously in their ears._

His devastating stare warped into a smile as her face must have revealed that he was right. _Got you._ Zelda was mortified to feel slickness between her thighs, ruining his shorts. She felt her body thrumming in time to her rapid pulse.

_The mechanical buzzing noise grew louder. Her breathing sped up, desperate and fast. Lewd, wet sounds echoed._

“You push me…”

He shifted to his knees, adding menacing height.

“You toy with me…”

He intruded their shared no-man’s land.

“You torment me just to see me react.”

Zelda shivered as he leaned down to speak into her ear. “But you seem to have forgotten something, Princess.” His nose brushed the shell of her ear so softly she could’ve mistaken it for her own hair.

“I have more experience exercising self-control than you do.” And he gently bit her ear.

Both Zeldas whined.

Her hand gravitated to his thigh, wanting more. Wanting him to make good on his threats, whatever that means. She shut her eyes and leaned in to see if his neck tasted as good as it smelled.

_She cried out, suddenly, as a wave of pleasure crashed over her._

Cold air was all she found. He pulled away suddenly, making a fast, calculated motion. She heard a mechanical sound in front of her face. _What?_

When she opened her eyes, Link was already walking down the corridor. He left the slate face-up on the stone. An image displayed on it.

It was a picture of her own face, needy and wanting.

_Got you._


	14. Bite

~*~*~*~*~*~

Zelda stared after him, dumbstruck.

The cheeky image on the slate taunted her.

_What in Hylia just happened?!_

An aching need sat heavy and uncomfortable at the apex of her thighs, and the apparition of his breath in her ear trembling. Not-Zelda had fallen blissfully quiet in the aftermath of her pleasure.

Link’s point was made loud and clear: Have some respect.

He’d disappeared around a corner, but she knew where he had gone. There was only one place left in these memories he could go.

Dazed and thoroughly put in her place, Zelda shook off the feeling that she’d been chastised, collected the slate, and followed after him.

A comforting blue glow played in her peripheral.

When she found Link, he was bent at the hot spring, examining a duplicate of his hair band floating on the surface. He heard her approach but didn’t indicate so with any more flourish than a tilt of his head. By all appearances, he hadn’t done anything out of the normal at all.

Didn’t have her trembling and wanting, listening to herself achieve climax.

Zelda swallowed, trying to get a grip on herself. He was right: she _did_ have less experience in self-control.

Link was calm and attentive, as if he was foraging for mushrooms and not standing in the memory he was most ashamed of. In fact, he looked just as at home here as he would in Kakariko Forest.

“Link?”

The knight turned to her, arms folded behind his back and at attention. He was formal and awaiting an order. The last time he’d done this, she’d been worried that their friendship was gone. But this time, she found it more endearing than anything else.

Choosing to drop it for the time being, Zelda focused on their mission. “It’s odd that this memory is included in the series. We were both there for it. I thought I already understood it.” She spoke as if she were describing the anatomy of a Talus: scientific.

The knight nodded in the affirmative.

It seemed odd. Neither was totally sure what to do with this task. Zelda didn’t want to submerge herself, but she did indulge in sitting on the edge with her feet in the water. “It seems redundant for you to explain what transpired here,” Zelda says, filling the silence.

Link didn’t say anything. He was looking past her to the corridor they’d just came from. Kittee stood in the threshold, watching them. While still dwarfed by the Hylians, the creature’s legs held more power, paws spreading silent weight over the stone with the purpose of predation.

Had they not noticed how much Kittee had grown while it was shadowing them?

Link extended his hand to the creature, inviting it to come sniff. The feline trotted over and obliged, petting him back with its soft muzzle. The creature stood tall enough to accomplish this without him kneeling.

“We were right,” comments Zelda, smiling despite herself. “But since we’ve reached the end, what more is there for us to do?”

Kittee sniffed Link’s leg, pawing at his thigh. It wanted something in his pocket. Link silently fed more of their leftovers to the creature, partly because he wanted to and partly because its claws were _sharp. _The memory of pain on his hand burned.

One hand getting licked clean of all bird residue, Link gestured with his free hand to the slate.

Zelda understood and swiped past their two close-up shots to the picture of the riddle. “The path home will be revealed when one is nurturing, and home is found in another.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “The other trials opened a path where we first saw the inscription. So maybe the path home is literally at your home, Link.”

This seemed to make sense to him. He opened his mouth to agree, but words were cut off by his yelp. “Ow!” He tore his hand away from the Kittee’s jaws, having mouthed him too hard. It’s face-swords were sharp too! “Hey, quit it,” he growls at the animal.

Its cunning eyes were blown wide with interest, crouched and hunting Link’s hand like a wolf stalks an elk. The Kittee launched forward, both paws curled mercilessly around his wrist and sinking teeth into his bicep. The weight nearly pulled him off balance.

Way, way, too much! Link’s body reacted faster than he could, whirling to force the feline’s jaws harder onto his arm and pry them wider than they’re designed. This shocked the Kittee enough into letting go. “Hey! Back off!” Link’s voice boomed.

The playful wriggling of its tail stopped, and its ears flattened. The creature bolted out into the darkness.

Zelda stared after it, stricken. It had never given them any indication that it was dangerous, but blood still trickled from Link’s wrist and bicep. “Are you okay?” she came over to inspect him.

“They’re not deep,” he reports.

“It… didn’t look like it had intent to harm.” Still, the larger the Kittee got, the greater the swords it wielded.

Feeling uneasy, they headed back.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Dresser, third drawer,” Link informed. While Zelda went up to the loft, Link inspected the book that held the riddle. All of the other pages were blank, and there was nothing on the spine or either cover.

Zelda returned, sitting at the dining room table beside him. She placed a medical kit on the table and began unpacking. He didn’t really care for it, but Link knew better than to tell her not to bind his wounds. She knew enough about all the gruesome ways that they could get infected. “It’s fine” is a phrase she doesn’t respond to.

“Any change?” Link shook his head. His eye pinched at the sting of the cleaning agent she dabbed on him. “That’s strange. We’ve fulfilled the challenge as far as I can tell. Is there anything about the spring you were supposed to divulge?” She followed the cleaning agent with a specialized mighty elixir. It should make his cells strong enough to fight off infection, so long as the Kittee didn’t have anything he could catch.

Could the Kittee even contract a disease?

Link shook his head. “There’s really nothing you don’t know at this point.”

She sensed he was being truthful, judging from his exhausted tone.

“Mm.” She completed the binding by applying gauze to his bicep and wrist. “Maybe we missed something.”

Link didn’t like the idea of going back and combing for memories they missed, but he didn’t voice it.

Deciding she was finished, Zelda stood and made for the door. They’d already fed all of their leftovers to the creature. “In any case, we should get started on—” She stopped. The Kittee sat right in front of the door. It set a bird at her feet that wasn’t just casually dead; it was mangled to death. “Dinner.”

Link glanced around her, disliking the distance between Zelda and the creature. He wished he had a weapon to pull. He could make for a torch.

Zelda tipped her head at the creature, tail wriggling back and forth at it. The Kittee was… smaller? Only a little, but it definitely had shrunk. It looked quite pleased with itself, and Zelda realized that it was a gift. She collected the remains of the crane hesitantly. “Thank you, Kittee.”

The creature mewed back at her happily.

Zelda exchanged a glance with Link. Then, she decided that dangerous or no, she isn’t one to be ungrateful of a gift. She pet Kittee’s ears and gently brushed past. “I really think it wasn’t trying to hurt you, Link. Maybe that’s how it plays.”

Link followed right behind her. The creature’s ears flattened as he came too close, an anxious gesture.

“It’s smaller,” Link observes.

“Could we have done something wrong? We went through all of your memories.” Link shook his head, stumped. Zelda hummed and surveyed the small island. With all of the lanterns lit, she could see to the beaches all the way around except for those hidden by the hill behind the house. Nothing looked different. “I’m going to check it out.”

Link gave it a moment’s thought. He’d prefer for her to leave the area if the Kittee is in it, just to be safe. So long as he keeps it here with him, he could be relatively at ease. Zelda took her leave to sweep the island, leaving Link and the glowing feline staring at each other.

He collected the crane, no sudden movements, and began the process of cleaning it to prepare it for dinner. The gnarled body of the creature spoke to what the claws and fangs it possessed could do. It seemed to sense his anxiety and wouldn’t come closer.

It was unlike a dog, which would growl or whine whatever it wanted to communicate. However, Link was picking up on subtle cues. Calm meant its pupils were blade shaped. Wide means it wants to attack.

It flopped on its side, licking its paws. Its claws glowed yellow.

Testing a theory, Link pulled a long flight-feather from the bird, holding it by the quill. The tip just barely grazed the ground. He watched the creature snap to attention, pupils dilating in rapt attention.

He could work with that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

This island is smaller than it had first seemed. It couldn’t be much bigger than the castle grounds in diameter. She’d explored all over, reliving each nice anecdote Link had told her about each place. Nothing was different than her first tour.

However, one thing that seemed odd to her was a flat, round rock just at the edge of the firelight. Was that there the first time she saw this beach? It was just at the edge of firelit visibility, thigh-deep into the sea. It is possible she could have missed it the first time. Curious, she approached it.

Not like these shorts weren’t already in need of a wash.

Holding the torch and the hem of the Hylian tunic up to stay dry, Zelda climbed onto the rock. It was the exact height of the ocean. Water barely skimmed the surface with each wave. Aside from its suspicious perfection and exact sealevel height, Zelda couldn’t find anything else useful about it. There wasn’t anything reactive to Stasis or Magnesis.

She supposed she could try Cryonis, but she wouldn’t know where she was going. Besides, she didn’t have shoes.

With a sigh, Zelda gave up. She’d already had a long day of exploring and would appreciate a rest and a good meal.

“Link?” she called, just to let him know she was approaching, “I couldn’t… find…”

Words she was about to say fell limp in the air because no one was listening. No, she found Link perched in a tree. He had rigged a long feather to a tree branch. He teased the Kittee back, forth, got it to jump and swat at the makeshift toy. Link had a smile that made Zelda’s chest full.

The Kittee spun in a tight circle until it wasn’t sure if it was chasing its own tail or the toy.

Zelda took in the scene. Has she ever seen Link just have fun?

No, she realized, this is the first time.

He hadn’t even noticed her, so was he caught up in his games. Smiling to herself, Zelda made her way over to the fire to warm up her still-wet legs and shorts. Dinner was simmering in the pot and she watched the knight jump from the tree, trailing the teaser behind him. Predictably, the Kittee pounced and followed after it.

It was moving too fast to really tell but Zelda could’ve sworn it had grown in the time she’d been gone.

Link seemed to finally realize Zelda was back. He tossed the toy in the air for the Kittee to catch. He left it on it’s back bunny-kicking the weak toy to pieces. “Hey,” he greeted, out of breath.

“Hey yourself,” Zelda answers, amused. “You’re good with animals.”

Link laughed, a little bashful at the compliment. “Did you find anything?”

The mirth drained from Zelda’s eyes and she gave him a dim smile. “No. I thought I saw something out of the ordinary, but it turned out to be nothing. We’re just as stuck as we were when we got here.” Just to confirm, she checked the time.

Still 5:48PM -39*F.

Link made a sound that was supposed to be disappointed, but he didn’t really seem it. He looked too happy to be brought down by bad news. He stirred the mix of shrooms and crane. “Should be ready soon. We’ll deal with it after that.”

Zelda nodded.

He was impossibly unfazed by her. Did he have no recollection of what had happened? No wonder she assumed he wasn’t Hylian. It seems profoundly unfair, since she could barely glance his way, shirtless and all hard lines, glistening with the sweat from playing—

“Zelda.”

She blinked, brought out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

“I said, would you please get the dishes?” He was neutral, unreadable. But Zelda knew she’d been caught. She swallowed and darted off to do as she was asked.

Is this what it’s been like for him this whole time?

How is it that she, a member of the royal family, Princess of Hyrule, anointed with the Blood of the Goddess, can be reduced to such a state as _skittish_?

She scolded herself for such ignoble behavior, collected the wares, and steeled herself to return.

As soon as she opened the door, she heard the incessant caterwauling the Kittee yowled at Link. “Calm down, you’ll get some,” he yelled out over the noise. That didn’t shut it up.

“Kittee, comport yourself with civility,” Zelda scolded in good humor. That, also, did not shut it up.

Only carving out a generous helping of meat for it got it to hush its demanding meows. Predictable.

“You figured out how to get it to play with you without getting hurt,” Zelda praised. “I was right that it doesn’t have a desire to hurt us.”

Link nodded, serving their portions of tough-shroom roasted meat. “That doesn’t mean that it isn’t dangerous.”

He seemed to view horses with the same reverence and healthy fear. If he can get a Princess to heel, he should have no issues with training any animal.

They shared a comfortable silence as they ate. Well, silence as in no one spoke, not as in quiet. Kittee was overjoyed, making some gnawing noise as it scraped meat from bones. It could have easily eaten it raw, but it wanted Link’s cooking, and even pestered him into making it. It must have some level of sentience to recognize the difference.

It looks like it’s gotten bigger since the last time Zelda’s looked at it, but it’s impossible to tell. She couldn’t tell if there really was a change, or if she just saw a change she wanted to see.

To her surprise, the creature crunched the bones into tiny shards.

Even if it is kind, it still holds a level of danger to it.

“I wonder… what purpose does the Kittee play other than to tell us how we’re doing in the shrine?”

Link turned to her, listening. She took that as a prompt to continue. “That is, the other shrines didn’t give us an indication of success until we achieved it. We just had to guess.” She supposed they’re still just guessing. “But this one, we receive feedback. I wonder why?”

The knight let out a soft sigh. “Probably just to make sure we didn’t back out early,” he mumbled.

Zelda laughed lightly at his petulant tone. “Still… we must have done something wrong at the hot spring. It shrank afterwards, right?”

Link thought about it. He supposed she was right. “If we need to go back there and try again, we will,” said the brave knight, emblem of bravery that he was.

“Perhaps… However, I am not keen on a hike until aft—Kittee, you are insatiable!” Link’s anxiety notched up at the creature nosing under Zelda’s hand. That is, until he realized it was just begging for attention. Zelda happily obliged and scratched behind its ears.

She was about to finish her sentence, when she felt teeth on her.

Link was immediately on his feet, torch in hand.

“Link, wait!”

He paused, stilling his attack before he could even launch it.

Kittee’s mouth was around her hand, gentle as a lioness with her cubs. It pulled Zelda’s hand gently, more a gesture than an attack or play. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Curious, she stood and let the creature lead her by the hand.


	15. Deserted

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link and Zelda trailed behind the creature as it stalked through the underbrush. Any time it got too much of a lead on them, it would stop and wait. Prior to this, it had always been following the Hylians, not the other way around.

This didn’t seem to make any sense. They’d succeeded in his series of shameful memories, only to fail somehow at the end, and now a new condition is introduced? Why then? It seemed arbitrary, and a niggling little thought wouldn’t leave Zelda alone. Something that said they had the whole premise wrong.

What exactly that was, she couldn’t begin to guess.

They were led to the suspicious rock that Zelda had investigated earlier. As if on instinct, or like it knew a secret that they didn’t, it honed in on the platform just at the surface. “What’s it… doing?” Kittee crouched low, wiggling as it focused, and launched forward onto the stone.

It just barely cleared the jump, back claws scrabbling on stone. It turned back to stare at them, expecting the Hylians to follow.

“The path forward…” Zelda murmured to herself. With a glance to one another they decided that this was their best bet, and waded into the water, trying to keep their torches aloft.

When they caught up, the Kittee did the same wriggling motion, and launched out further into the sea.

Except there was no splash; it had landed another platform. Neither Hylian could make that jump, and the water was too deep to bring torches with. Kittee watched them expectantly. Zelda dropped her torch with a splash and a sizzle. Then she took a breath and dove into the water.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They followed the creature like that for some time: The feline leaping from stone to stone, Hylians swimming after it. They floated in a surreal saline void. The entire universe only held water, stone, creature, and themselves. An eerie déjà vu hit Zelda. It felt like the trial of faith, where they floated in a dark void surrounded by water.

The Princess and the Hero, lost in time and space.

Frankly, Zelda thought that the novelty of the dreamscapes had worn off.

It seemed there was no end and no beginning to their series of stones. The cool water sapped heat from Zelda’s scalp and eyelids. Kittee was still perfectly dry.

It’s impossible to tell how long they did that.

Zelda’s arms burned from lifting herself out of the water over and over again, only to dive back in. Her equilibrium was thrown askew from never standing on solid ground long enough to get her bearings in a world with no sky, no horizon, and effectively, no up or down. Just water and not-water.

She was about to give up, when the feline landed in soft sand.

Link gave her a hand up from the beach, letting her get her bearings. His additional stores of stamina had come in handy.

“Please tell me we’re back in Hebra,” panted Zelda.

Unlikely.

She checked the slate. 5:48PM -39*F.

They were on a beach lit in soft moonlight, despite there being no sky above. The sand did not concede to any other biome; instead it stretched on endlessly before them. They found themselves in the Gerudo Desert.

Kittee watched them, as if waiting for them to do something.

Zelda squinted in the dim light, confused as to how they could only just see it as they landed on the beach. Perhaps the neon blue glow of the Kittee had obstructed their view. Or maybe it had sapped them of their night vision altogether.

“Is that…?”

Link followed her eyes. An enormous shadow towered in the distance. “Vah Naboris.”

In the expanse of the desert, they could see no other marker for them to aim for. Behind them sat an abyss of reflectionless water. Deciding there was no better option, they began their trek through the sand. On instinct, Link scanned for electric Lizalfos posing as desert rocks. Coarse sand clung to their wet legs.

“Why… the desert of all places?” Zelda wonders aloud.

Link made a face and shook his head. “I don’t have any fond memories of the desert.” Well, he did, but fond isn’t exactly the word either of them would use for it.

“Maybe we’re off Link Island, then.”

He passed her a look. _Please don’t call it that._

The nearer they drew to Vah Naboris, the more they could make out something in its shadow: Squat, square, sturdy. He caught the sparkle in Zelda’s eye as she realized what it was.

“Gerudo Town!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was exactly as she remembered it.

The air still smelled like seared steak and palm fronds. Jewelry and hydromelons and voltfruits and Gerudo Vai outfits sat on display, as if there were customers to buy. However, there was no one there but Link and herself. Link glanced around, seemingly familiar with the city as well. The eerie feeling of kenopsia in this abandoned place had him on edge.

Zelda tried to break him out of it. She eyed the white Vai outfit. “Wanna try it on for old times’ sake?”

Link passed her a flat, unamused stare. Zelda didn’t miss the tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks. “White isn’t my color.”

Zelda smirked sidelong at him and _tsked_ her tongue, disappointed. Now that she thought about it, he would make a cute girl.

They scoured for any sign of an inscription and naturally gravitated towards the throne room. Zelda half expected Urbosa to be seated upon her throne, belly-laughing at the enormous prank she’d managed to pull over the two of them.

She sighed. The reality was far worse. The throne was predictably empty.

Old Gerudo script that once adorned the back of the throne was absent, replaced with glowing letters:

> _A Major Test of Trust._

Zelda looked sour at the inscription. “They have somehow managed to become even more cryptic.”

Has this whole cursed exercise not been a major test of trust?

“Is it… significant that it’s on the throne?” She really couldn’t see why it would be. She glanced around for the Kittee to see if it provided any clues, but the only blue glow was that from the not-moon streaming in through the open balcony.

“Do you have any happy memories here?” Link asked, breaking his silence.

Come to think of it, this would be the closest thing she had.

“Yes… I believe so. I liked the change in culture. I liked being surrounded by self-reliant women. I was free to research Sheikah technology without the watchful gaze of the royal court.” It was the only time she was encouraged to pursue her passions.

Link felt something sad twist in him. Is this her only happy memory?

The desert somehow felt even more endless.

“I suppose that means that this place is my Zelda Island.” Link indicated that he thought it made sense. Even though the inscription this time was simple, Zelda still snapped a picture of it with the slate. “Well, I suppose we should get on with a tour, then.”

The torches were already lit through the halls, exactly as Zelda remembered them.

She began her exploration by ascending the stairs to Chief Urbosa’s room. It was strange not to have any guards to nod to while they let her pass. The room was elegant, with an oversized bed and plush furnishings. Exactly as she’d left it.

“Nothing different…” Zelda mumbled to herself. Perhaps that was the point. “Urbosa would braid my hair on the bed while I was engrossed in a book.” It was a happy memory, sure, but it didn’t exactly scream of trust, let alone a major test of it.

It’s amazing how much you miss the sky until you don’t have it.

Link didn’t have any outward reaction, which meant he was probably keeping it to himself.

“What do you think the Major Test of Trust is?” Zelda asked, following Link back down to the throne room towards the guard barracks. She didn’t comment on how he already knew his way around because she didn’t have to.

“If it’s anything like the last trial, then I just need to see your memories and we can move on.”

Why did Zelda feel like that wasn’t it? Yes, _technically_ that had worked before. But it was inconsistent, The Kittee grew from Link’s memory of the door, but shrank after the hot spring. Then grew again inexplicably. It just… little things like that not adding up got under Zelda’s skin.

“I suppose. However, quite frankly, I feel that your trial would be better described as a Major Test of Trust than mine.”

Link raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re very confident that you have nothing to hide.”

Was that a hint of cheekiness? He’s so neutral, it’s hard to tell.

Zelda broke his gaze and stuck her nose up. “You were already there for all of my worst moments.” He thought she meant recently, but then it struck him that she was referring to the Springs of Wisdom, Courage, and Power. Before he could tell her otherwise, she broke in, “Hey, did you pick up that duplicate of your hair band?”

Quick subject change. He didn’t say anything, just produced the band from around his wrist.

“Thank you.” She blocked her view of him with her elbows and tied up her still-damp hair.

They explored Gerudo Town: The shops without vendors, the barracks without soldiers, the pens without sand-seals. The secret door with the password required to enter it. Link very studiously ignored all of the images his cursed mind was supplying him of the ‘wares’ inside that place.

He said nothing, and Zelda said nothing of his saying nothing. Neither said a thing as they moved back in to the central plaza.

“It must be strange to be able to walk around openly as a Voe here. Weren’t you scared of getting caught?” Characteristically, Zelda broke the silence.

Link shrugged. “Gerudo women don’t seem to know much about men. They didn’t find me of suspect.”

Zelda pilfered a voltfruit from a stand, reclining against a fountain wall as she watched him. “I don’t know, Link. Have you considered that maybe you just make for a pretty girl?” She peeled back the leaves, enjoying his shy expression. “Besides, some Gerudo women know more about Voe than most Voe do.”

Link quirked a brow at her.

“I’m serious! They even have classes on the subject.”

The knight crossed his arms and squinted hard. _Classes you’ve attended._

She squinted back, reading. “To answer your question, yes, I did attend. Loath as my father is to admit it, I am a scholar. The class was very informative.” She sounded more royal than normal. Which was impressive, given her mouthful of tingling voltfruit.

Link’s wry grin was plenty of an answer. _I’m not gonna ask._

~*~*~*~*~*~

They’d explored all of Gerudo town and everything was exactly the same: The jewelry shop with sparkling baubles, the pen for Urbosa’s sand seal pup Patricia, the Hotel Oasis, the storeroom, the barracks, and, yes, the classroom where she attended the Intermediate Voe course. Link was underwhelmed, but at least entertained.

The practice dummies had smiley faces drawn on them.

There were only two locations that Link knew of that they hadn’t visited, and he’d really prefer it if it stayed that way.

Stumped, they returned to the throne room.

Zelda sat on the steps, because even without Urbosa here, it doesn’t seem right to sit on the Chief’s throne. “By all appearances, this is the same as the real Gerudo Town, just without all of the inhabitants.” She seemed discouraged. Link recognized that voice. It was the prelude to her giving-up voice.

“Prin—Zelda,” Link corrected. He had an idea of something but didn’t seem sure how to ask.

“Go ahead,” she prompted.

“Is… Gerudo Town your only happy memory?” He wanted to know for the purposes of the trial, sure, but there’s no mistaking that it hurts to think this is all she has.

Zelda thought about it. “I mean, _really _happy?” She stared down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know. I felt… free. Unburdened. When I focus on learning more about Sheikah technology, I forget myself and my so-called destiny.”

If Link’s theme was peacefulness, was Zelda’s theme freedom?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Link, but I had finally gotten some distance from you. Well, not _you_. You, the Hero. The partner in a destiny I don’t think I’m meant to have. Just surrounded by Gerudo women who don’t know Hylia’s name, I got to be whoever I wanted. I got to be Zelda, the Divine Beast Technician.”

Link shook his head, not taking any offense. It made sense. Zelda’s apology all that time ago had already laid the foundation for her words.

He peered into the open wall behind the throne. The shadow of Vah Naboris stood out against the highlands in the distance.

“Perhaps your island is on Vah Naboris.”

Zelda sat up straighter to follow his eyeline. It would make sense. The wonder of being on Vah Naboris would set her spirits right, even if it was just a memory.

“It very well could be. However, there is no way to get onto the platform of Naboris while it stands. We’d need to be inside the beast in order to reach the terminal to activate it. And without any way to make it lay down, there’s no way to reach the terminal."

Zelda tried a different approach, “Perhaps the Major Test of Trust involves paragliding from the mountains with me.” She could think of nothing more trying of her trust than that, considering their last attempt.

Link eyed the climb up Vah Naboris's Legs. Even with his stamina and skill, there’s simply no way he could scale it. Perhaps he _could_ try parasailing off the highlands, but even then it was risky with Zelda on board. They’d descend too quickly. Besides, how would Zelda make the climb up to the top of the highlands, anyway? They didn’t have protective clothing.

Did they even need protective clothing here?

Wait. He doesn't even _have_ his parasail! It's in his korok pouch.

“I don’t think that’s the answer to the riddle,” says Link honestly.

Zelda made a face, disliking the fact that they were in agreement.

“That leaves the issue of getting there. Perhaps the reward for solving the trial is access to Vah Naboris. Therefore, the answer must be possible to achieve here in Gerudo Town. We just have to find out what the Major Test of Trust entails.”

Zelda thought on it a while, undisturbed by Link’s silence. There wasn’t much to do in this town without the inhabitants, and a trip to Naboris at this point would be fruitless shy of some miracle. In addition, where had the Kittee gone? Had its use expired?

For some reason, that pulled a heartstring for her. She was just beginning to get attached to the creature.

She glanced to Link, who stared off into the distance. The light from an absentee moon cut the cords and highlights of his collarbones and neck in striking contrast. His hair wasn’t totally dry yet. Zelda had an idea of what the Major Test of Trust _could_ be…

_Mipha honing her power by thinking of her Love for Link._

_The cave rewarding them for huddling._

_The hot springs opening as Link’s hand trailed lower._

_His eyes searing her while she heard her own voice climax._

Even though it didn’t _quite_ line up one hundred percent with all of the trials, the closest unifying theme seems to be… _whatever that is._

Link’s arms flexed and wide shoulders burgeoned as he lifted his hands to redo the hairband loosened from their swim. It seemed like a cruel thing to inflict upon her at a time like this.

“I can’t work like this,” Zelda sighs. “I need to write this all down. I’m losing track of my own thoughts.”

There’s only one workspace here she knows she can be productive at.


	16. Mechanics

Zelda opened the door to her room and strode in without a second thought. Her room was just as trashed as she had left it. Guardian gears and ancient screws and pieces of giant cores were scattered and dismembered on every available surface. Notes lay in semi-organized in precarious piles. Her journal full of field notes still lay on the floor.

She was busy pulling miscellaneous notes from her makeshift corkboard to create some workspace, when Zelda noticed Link standing outside the room, not looking particularly comfortable.

The princess passed him a wry stare, “Link. At this point, it is stranger to linger than to enter.” Which, to those who speak in fluent Zelda, was code for _move, before I make a comment neither of us want to hear._

He snapped himself out of it and entered, leaving the door open. It was a large room, fit for a noble, with fine furnishings and an immodest-sized bed. The chaos of her experiments somehow made this place feel homier than her room in Hyrule Castle. It was unmistakably Zelda’s.

Zelda largely ignored the knight and left him to his own devices. She was busy making flow charts and notecards with subjects and additional information and simple illustrations; A traditional Hyrule Compendium in her flowing script hand. Except the Compendium was for this strange memory-world, and not Hyrule.

He watched her for some time, trying to follow her logic just based on which note was pinned where, but gave up. Zelda’s mind was something she could barely untangle herself, let alone be skimmed by an outsider.

> _Trial 1: _
> 
>   * _Attempted: Runes. Building fire (why were we given materials to do so?) _
>   * _Result: Unsuccessful. _
>   * _Sharing body heat. _
>   * _Result: Successful. _
>   * _ Physical touch: Required._
> 
> _Trial 2:_
> 
>   * _Attempted: Giving/Receiving physical gift, Secrets, High-five, Compliment, Cooking Tips, Constructive Criticism. _
>   * _Result: Unsuccessful. _
>   * _P__hysical reciprocity. _
>   * _Result: Successful, required._
> 
> _Trial 3:_
> 
>   * _Attempted: Descending stairs; Placing Link in stasis/rescuing. _
>   * _Result: Unsuccessful _
>   * _ Leap of faith, holding hands. _
>   * _Result: Successful. _
>   * _Physical touch: Required?? Cannot confirm._
> 
> _Trial 4: _
> 
>   * _ Attempted: Exploring Link’s memories w/ anecdotes. _
>   * _Result: Mixed?? _
>   * _Kittee grew steadily until final memory. Shrank, grew again, then presented path._
>   * _Final memory needed to be relived? First instance of regression. If not completed, why pass the trial? _
>   * _Physical Touch: Not required._

Zelda continued to agonize over her notes. She wrote down all possible origins and conflicting theories regarding Mipha and her connection to Link. As far as she could tell, the Trials of Unity were set on pushing her and Link together, whether that was what they wanted or not. There’s conflicting evidence that these trials are purely physical, which is both relieving and terrifying.

It’s not that she’s adamantly opposed. It’s just that it seems strange in the context of her receiving powers from the Goddess. Especially given that three Champions wielded powers without love for Link. Zelda still has the feeling that she’s missing something important.

So enraptured was she in solving the puzzle that she completely forgot the other half of the Unity trials.

He was busy rifling around, curious about her various enterprises. Two pieces of cores connected via wiring seemed to transfer sound at a one-to-one ratio. A set of gears rigged together plucked a set of taught strings, creating a simple tune. As far as he could tell, these mechanical units were built by Zelda for the simple pleasure of building them.

Link smiled at her little brain-children scattered over the surface of the fine dresser.

The dresser probably held more of them inside. He pulled open the nearest drawer but found himself disappointed to find it full of clothes. “There’s clean clothing over here if you’d like to change out of my tunic,” he says to the room without looking at her.

Zelda made a _meh _sound back at him. Leave me alone, I’m busy.

He thought perhaps he might do well with a fresh change himself and sought out something suitable for him. Preferably not silky or cropped.

The top-center drawer might be his best bet. Nothing seemed too flashy-- probably of Hylian make-- and held Zelda’s riding clothes. Their dimensions were different, but perhaps he could make do with—

Something solid paused his rifling.

_What is that?_

He pushed a pair of trousers aside, and found a smooth, slim object. It was dense and heavy in his hand. A topaz shined brightly in the firelit space, reflecting yellow disco lights onto his face. It seemed both mechanical and beautiful, but he couldn’t possibly begin to imagine what it was for. Or why it was left in this place while all others were scattered about.

“Link, I believe I have reached an impasse. There is conflicting evidence in favor of our—” Zelda stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to see Link standing in front of her dresser, examining an object. “What are you…?”

He cocked his head at the object, brows furrowed in concentration.

Zelda desperately tried to figure out what he was holding. It was just out of sight.

He fiddled with it, examining it for functionality. Realization crept up from the underbrush of her mind.

“Wait, no! Don’t—"

Too late. Link discovered something. He turned the base of it and yelped when it suddenly buzzed in his hand. The object landed heavily on the stone, clattering as it vibrated violently. Startled, Link watched it rotate itself in wide circles on the floor.

He turned questioning eyes to Zelda. What area of her face she didn’t cover with her hands was flushed a deep, ruddy color. She looked absolutely mortified.

“What is…?” Link felt like he’d heard that sound before, but he’d never encountered an object like this.

Zelda squeaked, “Turn it off!”

Link knelt to do as she said. It was such a foreign sensation in his hand, like an entire earthquake in his palm. Almost like being shocked by a Wizrobe. He twisted the base again and found that the thing shook impossibly faster.

“Other way!”

Finally, _finally, _the thing fell silent. His hand was left with a strange memory of the tremble. He looked for answers in Zelda’s eyes, but she had buried them into her hands.

“Hylia, Goddess who guards the voices of the Spirit Realm, please give me strength to overcome these challenges presented to me…” she prayed under her breath.

Link had never seen her like that. Why was she so embarrassed that he’d found this—

Oh.

_Oh!_

Link _had_ heard that sound before. Just muffled.

A part of him relished in the revenge of feeding her a taste of her own medicine. _Is this why she delights in messing with me?_ He can see the appeal of it now.

Link, ever the gentleman, set the object on the dresser and tamed his amusement back into neutrality. “Sorry, Princess,” he said, giving no clues other than not being sorry. Mercifully, he turned her attention back to her work. “I hadn’t meant to cut you off. What were you going to say?”

Zelda blinked back at him in a way that could only be described as endearing.

“…About an impasse?” he prompted.

Right.

“I—Uh.” He was giving her an out. She really ought to take it. “Um. Yeah. The—the trials. I…” She cleared her throat and collected her thoughts. She turned back to the corkboard, which helped. Link came up to her side to examine her work, which helped less. His hands were behind his back, ever her appointed knight.

“I’m trying to create a unified theory on what exactly the trials are trying to accomplish by having us complete them. Most shrines just ask you to solve a puzzle or demonstrate strength. This is with the purpose of making you strong and clever enough to defeat Ganon. However, with both of us crucial to this assignment, I’m unsure what that end goal is supposed to represent. The trials are making us _do something _with the purpose of accomplishing _what?”_

Link looked over her notes, processing what she had to say.

The incipient dread on his face seemed to indicate that he’d thought of something.

“What is it?”

Zelda watched him grind his teeth, deciding whether to say what he was thinking. He fidgeted with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

When it seemed he had decided not to say anything, Zelda cut him a hard stare. “You obviously have an idea. Just say it, and we’ll decide together if it’s a good one.”

Link licked his lips, looking everywhere but at her. She didn’t miss the way his ears turned red. “Well… I…” he swallowed, then grimaced. “I do but… I don’t think you’re going to like it.”


	17. Just Watch

Link shouldn’t have said anything.

He should have just kept his huge mouth to himself! This is why he’d become selectively mute in the first place.

His role as the Hero began and ended with his duty to defeat Ganon, nothing more. He was sworn to protect Princess Zelda. That’s it. Those are his two jobs. He should never have stepped outside those bounds.

Zelda stood clear across the room from him, arms akimbo in disbelief.

Link’s expression was sheepish. _Told you that you wouldn’t like it._

“That idea hardly seems worthy of Hylia’s blessing,” she snorted. “It’s boorish! It’s…” She tried to conjure more ways to say ridiculous than she’d already used.

Link got the distinct sense that he was supposed to step in and say something. However, that’s a task too big for a mouth he no longer trusted to wield tactfully.

She paced back over to her workdesk, wind whooshing past Link. Her eyes tore over her notes, and she reshuffled them, as if that would produce some sort of epiphany.

It only yielded her frustration.

“It is a mutual memory we have,” she observed scientifically. “As far as a Major Test of Trust is concerned, it seems like overkill.” Perhaps that’s the point. This had better be the final trial. Zelda’s not sure how much of this she can take.

Link nodded, refusing to meet her eye.

“How would we even know if it worked?”

Link made a vague gesture about the height of the Kittee and raised it.

“Right. It would grow, most likely. That is, assuming it is still a functional part of the trial.”

Silence fell, stagnant and heavy.

Zelda let out a loud, long-suffering sigh and sat on the edge of her bed. Her eye shifted to the dresser, then away again as if it had a glare of the sun.

Link considered throwing himself from the tallest waterfall in Gerudo.

She ran her nails through her scalp which messed up her already hastily tied-up hair. Her breathing was heavy, but Link heard her take deliberate measures to calm herself. To think about this rationally.

“The last two trials arguably did not require— Why would…?” Link made a silent gesture that indicated she didn’t have to elaborate. She swallowed, clearly not unaffected by nervousness. “It’s… a lot to ask of me.”

_It’s a lot to ask of either of us._

Link knew he had to speak. “I know. We don’t have to. We can try other things first. We could… visit Vah Naboris to see if there’s any clues there.”

Zelda’s nose curled at that. That would do nothing, and they both knew it. Loath as she was to admit it, Link’s idea is the closest thing in line with what the trials had asked of them so far.

Besides, if he had an entire trial dedicated to his most shameful memories, wouldn’t it only be fair for her to be asked to overcome similar obstacles?

_I have a lot more experience practicing self-control than you do._

Zelda swallowed, her voice a small, scared creature between them. “Do… do you think you have to…?”

Link didn’t know what to say. She looked so vulnerable. Like in the Trial of Faith when he’d rejected her desperate solicitation. He forced his throat to drop the lump lodged in it, then summoned the courage to sit at her side.

“I… don’t know. Probably.” He searched for something both comforting but not eager. “The worst that happens is that we’re wrong and we have to figure something else out.” The look on Zelda’s face indicated that wasn’t the right thing to say, and he winced.

He tried again. “You were patient and understanding while in my memories. It’s the least I can do to be the same way.”

That seemed to hit a little deeper. Her eyes softened back at him, just enough to warrant him giving her an encouraging smile.

“And if we’re wrong, then at least we’ll consider ourselves even.”

Zelda laughed despite the ridiculousness of the situation. It at least managed to soften some of the tension in the room. Link did his best not to eye the subject of their discussion. He’d very unwisely left it on top of the dresser.

It sat there, judging them.

“What do you call it?” he asked before he’d even realized he’d spoken.

Zelda’s face darkened. That’s not strictly necessary for him to know! Still, she considered it. “I… never really thought about a label.” She huffed a laugh that wasn’t really amused, “I’d only ever referred to it as my new best friend.”

Link tried not to laugh. He really did.

It earned him a scathing look. _Be nice._

“Sorry!” he held up his hands like two white flags.

Her curled lip indicated his apology was most certainly not accepted. Still, she sighed and stared at her hands curled in her lap. Maybe, if she could just focus on that, it would be like he wasn’t even there. They’d come out of it just the same as when they started.

Just best friends.

Resolved, she finally cut the heavy silence.

“Okay.”

Link blinked at her. He wasn’t expecting a yes to that at all. His skin felt like it would melt off.

“What?”

“Okay. Let’s try.” Her eyes were steely with determination.

Something else seemed to occur to her. Link realized too late that it was playfulness. She cut her voice low and stared at him through her lashes, “I’ll let you back out of our bet if you do it wearing a Vai outfit.”

It took him a second. When he realized what she meant, Link laughed, pressed his palm to his forehead and shook it from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“No, thanks.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

This might be the most uncomfortable Link has ever been in his life.

He’d found a fresh tunic that just barely fit him, as if wearing more clothing was going to make this any less scandalous. Was he not the same guy concerned with logistics of his own beheading when she was just looking to survive the cold?

He moved around the room, extinguishing the torches for her. It’s about the closest thing to being gentlemanly that this situation calls for.

“Thanks…” murmurs Zelda, curled in the plush bedding.

Link doesn’t say anything, not that he could.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim moonlight filtering in through the high window. However, it wasn’t perfect. Not knowing what to do with himself, he crossed towards the sofa where he’d presumably bash his skull against the wall.

He tripped over a haphazardly placed pile of books.

Zelda’s soft giggle cut the strange silence. Apparently, he was as nervous as her.

He collected himself and crawled onto the cushions, wishing that he could push it back a few miles further from the bed. Instead, he sat far enough away that his toes could touch the mattress if he stretched them.

The anxious sound of Link clearing his throat was deafening.

Without the background white noise of fire crackling, or Gerudo natives outside chatting, or wind in palm fronds or _anything_ for that matter, the silence screamed in their ears.

_Poor Zelda must be mortified._ He knew what that felt like.

If the roles were reversed, what kindness would she give him?

“Y-you can tell me to leave. Any point. I’ll go. No questions asked.”

That came out hastier than he would have liked, but he saw Zelda nod. She wasn’t any less anxious.

It’s just too silent in here. For once, Link found himself unable to stay quiet, “Just… just pretend I’m not here.”

Zelda let out a histrionic growl of annoyance at him. “I would, if you’d just _be quiet._” Under literally any under circumstance, Link would have laughed. Instead, he just held his breath.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest like a bird spooked in its cage. Zelda feared it beat so hard that it might actually get out.

Even with Link sitting perfectly still, doing nothing, saying nothing, she could _feel_ his presence in the room. She even could feel when he was looking at her or not, based on the way the hairs on her arms would rise or fall. Even covered by his tunic and the thick comforters, she still felt naked.

Focus, Princess.

You want your powers? You’re gonna have to commune. Like he said, just ignore him. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headboard. Her best friend sat heavily against her thigh under the blankets.

Zelda focused on her breathing, then the way her fingers felt against her bare thigh. Ticklish, light, trembling with nervousness. Her body already remembered this place, this bed, this friend. How it felt to engineer something with the sole purpose of her own pleasure. Building it herself. Fashioning it to a purchase from the password-protected store that she picked out herself, for herself.

The anticipation. The experimentation. She’d read extensively on Hylian biology, and had enjoyed pursuing her hypotheses of what would and would not lend pleasure to it.

Zelda dragged her nails through her curls, enjoying the shivers she gave herself just by being so near. Heat slowly trickled lower and lower like spring-melt. Her breathing sped up as she tested the waters. She was already so slick that she surprised herself.

Had she been tightly wound this whole time and not noticed? Or is it just the situation that had her so amped up?

She’d nearly forgotten.

Her eyes turned towards the sofa, and saw blue ones watching her in the dark between his fingers. He used his hands to cover his mouth and muffle his breathing. A surge of molten heat clamped behind her navel and Zelda whimpered a distressed sound.

He tensed as if he wanted to help her but had to restrain himself. She’s not in danger.

They made eye contact. Link’s face turned an impossible shade darker and he immediately looked away.

_Don’t think about it,_ she chastised herself.

Her fingers moved, practiced, gently gliding over where she wanted it. Something primal in her wanted to grind down on the nub of nerves. Whether for the relief she wanted, or to sink under Link’s skin with the noises she made, Zelda was unsure.

It took effort, but she restrained.

It was so deadly quiet in the room, every minute shift of her fingers over her folds was louder than a round of applause. Embarrassment flooded her; He definitely could hear the viscous movement under the sheets. He’d know how her body already reacted to her own touch.

Would he assume it’s despite his presence, or because of it?

Unable to help herself, Zelda applied just the slightest bit more pressure to her clit, reveling in the mix of relief and need.

She was about to do it again, when she heard the wounded sound come from the dark room.

It snapped her out of her rhythm. Sweat dampened her neck and collarbones. She growled lowly, a sound of frustration in her throat. “Link,” she warned.

She wasn’t even sure what she was warning him against. He was doing his best to stay still and quiet, and she was doing her best to forget that he’s there.

Link’s voice came out much higher than normal, “Right! You’re right. I’m gonna go. Just—” He quickly stood, trying to figure out how to get to the door amidst the hidden mess.

“No, that’s not what I—” Zelda rolled her eyes and sighed, “Sit back down.”

He looked like a fox with his tail caught in a trap. Confused, he forced himself to slink back over to his post.

She shook her hair out, trying to shake off some of these nerves. “Sorry, sorry, I… I’m just not used to an audience.”

Link laughed, a timorous little sound. He’s clearly not used to _being_ an audience. Ironic, considering his experience with the subject.

Zelda sighed and worked her way back down herself. It’s difficult to establish a flow with so many excess thoughts in her head. Still, she was the emblem of determination to her people, so she would do her best.

The slick glide of her own finger helped a lot with clearing out thoughts. A soft sound built in her chest as she gingerly circled it, then moved into herself, so gently. The sound she’d built released as a soft sigh as she reacquainted herself with the spot inside her that’s most effective.

Her toes curled as she worked it, then exited to spread the juices back up to her clit. She indulged herself in more pressure and her heart hammered in her chest, unable to supply it blood fast enough. It felt _so good_. Different, somehow, than how it normally is for her.

She’d nearly forgotten why.

Her head rolled luxuriously as she built a slow, steady rhythm, unwinding herself one brush at a time. Heavy eyelids blurred the room and hallucinations of stars whirled in front of her vision. Need and urgency continued to build, her hips rising to meet her own hand. Her best friend remained happily at her side.

She nearly gave in to her body’s growing demands, when her eyes opened enough to see Link. He’d slid to sit on the floor with his back against the sofa, one leg stretched out and one curled up. The heel of his hand ground against the front of his trousers, and his face looked absolutely wretched with pain.

Furious, roiling pleasure hit her abdomen-first. The effect this has on him. The way he bites down on his free fist to keep from crying out. The glistening of sweat on his brow.

He used every ounce of his self-restraint and it showed.

Zelda’s fingers moved without her say-so and she let out a throaty groan at the rush of pleasure.

Did he imagine her hand under the covers? Did he hear how slick she was? Did her moans haunt his dreams?

She increased the speed, and she spoke without meaning to, “Oh _fuck…”_

Zelda’s eyes rolled forward just in time to see Link freeze, staring up at her face in rapt attention. He’d never heard her swear either.

Her hips canted up. She felt sweat dampen the plush pillows behind her back.

They made eye contact again. This time, something in Link’s eyes penetrated her with desire. Silently, he communicated only one thing: _Please._

Please what? _Please be nice? Please don’t? Please let me leave? _

Or_ please do?_

The howling of Zelda’s body decided for her, and she reached for her best friend.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link was wrong. They were dead. The fall from the stairs had killed them, and Link was serving his infinite sentence of soul-specific torment. This is his afterlife.

He had to _watch._

Everything was on fire. Even without a sun to warm the desert, it still felt like midday in the middle of the Gerudo Wastelands. He could hear every tiny change in her breathing, her heartbeat, her pace as she worked herself in front of him.

The ache pressing against the front of his trousers was so great, Link thought he may burst into tears.

Instead, he just swallowed a sob and bit down on his fist again. She’d expressed in no unclear terms that she wanted him silent.

How did he even get himself into this mess? Wasn’t he just supposed to accompany the Princess to another Spring?

His hand trembled, and he fought against the urge to spit into it and relieve himself of this unbearable pressure.

_That’s not part of it. You’re not allowed to enjoy this._

Just complete the trials, that’s it. Get her to the Spring, save Hyrule, and get out with your honor still intact.

At least, that was the plan.

She continued to grind into her own hand, to bring more and more crashing waves of pleasure. The dim moonbeams highlighted her jawline, the pulsing cords of her throat, and her collarbones as she built a burning pace. It was haunting and beautiful. Even with her under the covers, he could _smell _her. A heady rush of desire nearly split his skull in two.

Zelda opened her eyes and stared _straight into his_

He expected her to remember his immoral voyeurism and send him away. However, inexplicably, their eye contact seemed to spur her on even more. To Link’s horror, he felt something wet on the front of his trousers. He couldn’t possibly get any harder from this.

Or so he thought.

She made a sudden movement that nearly spooked him right out of his skin. Link thought for a moment she was grabbing a weapon to beat him to death with (which would be fair), but then he heard that mechanical buzzing sound kick on.

Link thought he really was going to cry.

Zelda lowered the device to where she wanted it, and Link felt more than heard the groan it pulled from her: _Desperate, needy, throaty._ Link was helpless but to watch her face contort in a face equal parts pain and pleasure. The heel of his hand ground harder against the jump of his member, as if trying to hold a stallion on its belly.

Perhaps he should gnash his skull against the wall. It was easier than keeping himself silent.

He must have made a pathetic sound, because Zelda stilled. Yeah, probably best he go. She looked over at him, took in his agony. She visibly shivered.

“You… you can—” she tried, out of breath.

It was a gesture of kindness. _You don’t have to just sit there._

His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. She was offering him the opportunity to give himself release. He could feel every ounce of restraint he had drilled into himself since boyhood crumbling under his feet.

He wanted to so, _so bad._

_That’s not part of it. You’re not allowed to enjoy this. Don’t take advantage of the situation, knight!_

Link ground his palms into his eyes and shook his head. This cursed meat-prison had him by a chokehold, demanding that he take _it_ in a chokehold. No! Not here.

_Just watch._

Zelda was blind to his inner turmoil.

Her moans notched up another octave as she adjusted herself. To Link’s horror and fascination, the buzzing sound slowly _muffled. _Zelda’s breath hissed through her teeth. She was sweating, chest heaving. Would she torment herself like this without him around? Was she still learning the techniques, or was he watching a master at work?

Zelda growled and kicked the covers away. _Too hot._

Link couldn’t see her. Not properly, not from his low angle on the floor. Her thigh obscured his view, but he could see the sinewy strained muscle of her arms fight to keep machine and body in sync.

The friend became un-muffled, suddenly, and she pressed it lengthwise along her slit. Zelda cried out a high keening sound and Link couldn’t suppress the sound that was squeezed from his lungs.

Link felt like a man dying of thirst in the desert, chasing a mirage of water only to find more sand.

Can you die in an afterlife?

Both were so hypnotized by the exercise, that they had failed to recognize they weren’t alone.

Zelda adjusted her grip on her best friend, needing _more, more! _She was about to adjust to the next setting up, when something landed on the bed next to her.

She shrieked, sending the device flying. Link was immediately on his feet, lightheaded from lack of blood. The device clattered on the stone next to him and he briefly considered its utility as a weapon against whatever had scared Zelda.

The thing that had scared Zelda was just as spooked itself.

The Kittee’s ears flattened, golden tail leaves expanding like peacock feathers. It made a sound of surprise, having not expected their reactions.

“Kittee…?” Zelda breathed. At her soft tone, its tail slowly relaxed, curious. Given its crouched position and the specific _mindstate _she was in, Zelda couldn’t tell if it had grown or not. Still roughly the size of a common Hylian dog.

She glanced to Link to see if he was just as dumbstruck. He was.

Nobody said anything. Tension sat thick in the air and sucked all oxygen out of it. The best friend continued buzzing on the floor by Link’s foot.

“Grrr… reow?”

To Link’s surprise, Zelda burst into laughter. Not just light, polite, or nervous laughter. Full-out belly laughs wracking her entire body. She crossed her arms over her belly, holding it against the force of her mirth.

Link and Kittee exchanged eye contact. _What??_

_No idea!_

Zelda’s laughter rang throughout the room, and the longer the other two were silent, the harder her guffaws racked her body. Just when she sounded like she was winding down, she glanced over to Link’s face. “Pffft!” she choked on her laughter and was sent off into another bout of uproarious giggles.

It was contagious. Link couldn’t suppress his own laughter in turn.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Your _face! _Sorry_.” _She turned back to the stunned creature, who was clearly rethinking sleeping on this particular comfy bed with its Hylians. With the hand that had been _unused_ in this bed, Zelda reached over and pet the Kittee lovingly between its ears. “Kittee, darling, I love you so much. But your timing is atrocious.”

The Kittee seemed confused, but was getting loved and petted, so it seemed happy with that.

She scratched its chin and then pointed for the door. “Would you, um, be so kind as to…?” The creature didn’t understand her words but seemed to glean meaning from the gesture.

The Kittee made a face: _You know what? Fine. Didn’t wanna sleep here anyway._ It lifted itself from the bed and sauntered out the door.

She turned back to find Link kneeling to pick up the still-vibrating device by the base. Zelda’s face flushed nearly violet with embarrassment and she covered her mouth. She watched, horrified, as he twisted the base and shut it off. Juices reflected tiny fragments of moonlight off the smooth device.

Zelda wanted to scream but she had no lungs. She was completely hapless to watch a tiny bead of it run over the device and onto his hand.

Link was perfectly, precisely neutral as he regarded the object and the fluid on his hand.

Finally, he let his hand fall to his side, still holding the object. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, wha—”

But Link had already strode out the door and closed it behind himself.

Thunderstruck, Zelda stared at the door. It stared back, apathetic.

Then she pulled the covers over herself and screamed into a pillow.


	18. Trial of Focus

~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of Link opening the door startled her from her thoughts.

He moved with controlled grace as he shut the door behind him and strode to her bedside. He held her friend in his hand.

Zelda was so mortified that she’d looped back around to snarky. “Did you have a good time with that?”

Link gave her a flat stare but didn’t take the bait. “I cleaned it for you.”

Zelda blinked at him, astonished.

He set the cleaned and dried device at her side. His face was flushed, but he kept his expression neutral. “I figured… you know. You probably didn’t want something on the floor…”

Inside you.

“Thanks,” she says, perhaps a little too quickly. Somehow, Zelda thought this may be the most gentlemanly gesture he’s ever done for her. That’s no small feat.

“I…” She cleared her throat, tried to use her mind for more practical things. “Did you see any change?”

Link nodded, “It grew.”

“How much?”

Link’s face tightened. He made a pinch gesture that said _not much._

That’s both good news and bad news. “That means we… had the right idea.” She leaned to peer around him towards the door. “It’s not gonna…”

“I locked it.”

Zelda worried her lip.

It’s like he read her mind. “We don’t… There’s no rush. Time still hasn’t changed. You don’t have to.”

Zelda remained silent, watching the blush creep up his neck to his ears. His manicured neutrality creaked under the weight of her gaze.

“You… should probably drink some water,” he suggested. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him.

A wry little grin made its way onto her face. He’d cleaned it, returned it to her, and locked the door. Is that purely with gentlemanly motives behind it? Or was he just facilitating it to go faster?

Even given permission, he hadn’t touched himself. The fact he stood so calm in front of her now was suspicious at best.

_You did, didn’t you!_

_Guess you’re mortal after all._

The longer she stared at him, the more shamefaced he became. Victorious, Zelda had sussed out the truth without saying a single word. It is profoundly unfair in her view that he has been allowed relief not once but twice since they started this adventure, but she’s received nothing.

“You’re right,” she chirps happily, leaning up onto her knees on the bed. The Hylian tunic barely covered the apex of her thighs. Link keened away from her mischievous stare. “_We_ don’t have to do anything.” She gestured between the two of them.

Link didn’t know what she was getting at, but he sure didn’t like her tone.

She snatched away the device from the space between them and burrowed under the covers with it. To Link’s unending embarrassment, she smirked at him. “However, _I _know what I’m going to do.”

The knight nodded curtly and crossed his arms behind his back. He made to march out the door. He knew a dismissal when he’d heard one. This may be the only one that haunts his dreams, but it is definitely a dismissal.

Except it wasn’t.

“I wasn’t telling you to leave, knight.”

Link stopped in his tracks. _That voice._ Even with a fast-gained relief, he still felt desire tighten him again. Link turned back to her, meeting her eyes for as long as he dared.

_What are you doing?_

She just smiled back at him sweetly. “I’m also not telling you to stay.”

He held his hands out. _What do you want from me?_

“It’s entirely your call, Link. Stay or go.”

That makes it so much worse! It’s one thing when he’s just there to satisfy the riddle; It’s another if it is made to sound that he’s there of his own volition. He knew the look in her eyes was just designed to get a reaction out of him.

She’s challenging him to a round of mind games.

Her implication was clear: Stay, and take responsibility for watching; Or go, and agonize over the knowledge of what she was doing behind the door.

Link gave her a stare that expressed just how unamused he was with her antics. She looked just as sweet and beguiling as she ever did. Even if she made it _sound_ like he was taking full responsibility for his staying, it didn’t negate the fact that it was his duty as Hero of Hyrule.

He had to, or so he told himself.

Not one to let others win a challenge untested, Link purposefully moved to the sofa and set his arms across the back of it.

Zelda tried to clock what was going on in his mind. Just when she thought she had a good read on him, it turned out that she was completely wrong. It’s a brazen move on his part. Frankly, she’d expected him to get flustered and leave.

He fully and completely called her bluff.

It’s impossible to tell what was going on behind that neutral face, but did she sense a bit of triumph? She must look pretty cowed.

It’s one thing to tease, it’s another to deliver.

_I think you want me to hear you finish._

No she didn’t! It’s humiliating to even be in this situation! He was wrong!

“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” said the knight, knightly. Her blood boiled indignantly at that glimmer in his eye. The one that said _got you._

Zelda stuck her nose up. “Not my call.” She knew he raised his eyebrows at her petulant tone, but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she took the device and turned it to the first setting.

The topaz stone harnessed electricity and activated the handcrafted mechanics inside it. Zelda knew the anatomy of the device almost as well as she knew her own. She’d turned it on in hopes of jolting a reaction out of him, but that had backfired spectacularly.

Heat slammed her hips down into the mattress and she couldn’t help the whine of anticipation high in her throat. She hadn’t had release in so, _so_ long.

She felt Link’s eyes on her and she turned to find him looking _smug._ It only redoubled her agitation. “Shut up,” she bit out, and he held up his hands in surrender. He’d literally said nothing.

Zelda sat the vibrating device on her thigh, tingles racing up through her femoral artery. She felt her nipples tent the coarse fabric of the tunic. She swallowed, her breathing suddenly uneven. It would be too much stimulation too fast and she knew it, but damn if she was going to just let him win like that.

She gently nosed the smooth head of it against herself, just feeling the vibrations ripple from her core to the tips of her toes. The sound she made was not manufactured.

All smugness was wiped from Link’s face. Zelda wanted to celebrate at him but found that her voice was gone. Her hands were clammy, and she wiped them on the tunic so she could keep a firm grip on the best friend. Zelda sank lower into the bedding, her spine arching as she closed in closer to her nerve center.

She wanted that stimulation so badly and tried to work up to it. However, without her fingers getting her there first, sharp jolts of overstimulation shot painfully through her hips and she grit her teeth. Too much.

Taking the object into herself was a little easier, and her spine arched to accommodate it. Smoothed with fluids, Zelda resorted to an old fallback:

Her head rolled back as she glided the length of the device gingerly over her clit, then slid it lower to press it firmly to both holes. It wrenched a low groan of pleasure from her chest. Her veins were lava flows of molten magma, coursing round and round in her superheated body.

Try as she might, she was aware of Link’s gaze.

Sweat made the fabric cling to her skin uncomfortably. However the idea of taking it off, somehow, seemed too scandalous. It’s one thing for him to be present; It’s another for him to see.

Zelda growled a low sound of frustration, trying to get her thoughts back onto the task at hand. Her body desperately tried to cajole her to do the same. The vibrations of the friend proved to be too much and she hissed again.

Link’s face was awash in morbid curiosity. He caught her gaze and immediately looked anywhere, everywhere, but at her. Trying to get himself back under control, and frankly exhausted from burning through all of his stores of the stuff, Link laid back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. He had the knee closest to her bent, as if clinging to his last bits of modesty.

She saw the hand on his belly twitch. He visibly resisted the urge to move it lower. He bit the other one to stay silent.

That’s nice of him.

Her body happily accepted the device back into her, angling to find the spot she looked for. Zelda didn’t seem to register her own voice, but she certainly heard Link’s wounded sound.

Her free hand flattened against her navel, and she caught Link turn to stare wide-eyed at the new movement. _What is she doing?!_

Something in her wanted to get him while she had him on his heels and far be it for Zelda to deny her desires at the moment. With the aching burn of frustration and overstimulation and _need_, she’d chase just about anything to finally get some relief.

So she kicked off the covers. The rush of cool air felt amazing, until the fission of her skin made the air around her just as hot.

Link looked like she’d just taken a sledgehammer to his chest. She watched him bite into the flesh of his fist so hard she thought it would bleed. He watched the dual movements of her arms, hidden coyly behind her thigh, and was left with only his imagination to guess at what she was doing.

What if this isn’t what the trial demands of them?

_Focus! _She nearly yelled at herself.

One hand worked her clit, gingerly, so gently, as if apologizing to it. The other pressed the vibrating friend further and further into herself. Something suddenly registered as _yes there keep doing that._

_I have more experience exercising self-control than you do._

She wondered what it would take to break him.

Her concentration shattered. The feeling she was chasing slipped through her fingers. Zelda didn’t know if she wanted to sob or scream.

Instead, she just hissed at nothing and flopped back against the pillows. Her hair went everywhere, tangled and matted. She shut off the device and rolled on her side, whimpering in pain.

Link was pulled back into reality. “Princess?” He sat up, and the déjà vu of headrush hit him all at once. “Hey, are you… okay?” His voice was shaky.

No, thought Zelda.

She rolled over and looked at him miserably. Laying on her side, Zelda’s leg over the other just barely hid her from his view. Link swallowed and remembered to look at her face. “Are you… are you hurt?”

Kind of.

“No,” she answers, agitated. Link flinched, not understanding this sudden change. Is she mad at him?

He glanced to the locked door. “Should I—”

“No.”

“Really, we can try again some other time. There’s no pressure.”

Zelda snorted at him. He has no idea the amount of pressure she’s experiencing. He looked nervous, but not for himself. He looked worried about her. It seems mean to not reassure him.

“I can’t focus,” she admits. Her legs tucked a little closer to her chest.

Link knelt at her bedside so they were eye-level. “I’m sorry. I really am trying to be quiet…” He rubs the back of his neck.

Zelda couldn’t help but find that endearing. “No, you’re not… It isn’t--” She shook her head. “I’m just in my own head.”

Link floundered. Suddenly, he wished that there was an Intermediate Vai course that he could’ve taken. He feels woefully unprepared for this. Does he go? Does he stay and comfort her? He decided that she’s the best person to answer that question. “What do you need?”

Zelda’s eyes bored into his at the question. She was so hungry, wound tight with need and crushed under the weight of her thoughts. Like being so tired she can’t sleep, or so cold you feel warm. She knew she should send him away and work through her anxieties alone. Maybe she could quell the needs of the cursed quim as an afterthought.

She really gave thought to it. What does she need?

Sitting up, she held the tunic just low enough to keep his imagination engaged. Poor Link looked like he might have a heart attack.

Zelda noted that she liked that. Maybe that’s it.

She remembered him, biting his fist and grinding the heel of his palm against himself.

_You tease me, torment me, mess with me just to get a reaction…_

His eyes when she got his self-control to snap in the hot springs.

She thinks she knows what it would take for them to complete this trial. The Major Test of Trust. She felt desire pang in her belly. She wanted to see him fight to stay in control.

“Honestly, Link?” she hesitated.

Link grew more and more flustered the longer she stared at him like that. He flinched when she placed her hand on his wrist.

“I need some help.”


	19. Happy to Help

~*~*~*~*~*~

All color drained from Link’s face.

Link didn’t understand what she meant. Help? She’d said that she wasn’t hurt. She’d said she was just stuck in her own head. These aren’t exactly problems he could fix.

Zelda’s eyes stared straight ahead into his. They were _pleading._

Pleading for what, exactly?

Link opened his mouth to speak but throat was too hoarse. He cleared it and tried again. “Prin—Zelda… I—” He’s not typically articulate, and the situation was certainly not making that any better. “What exactly are you asking of me?”

Zelda didn’t answer, just whimpered in pain.

He glanced down to Zelda’s hand on his wrist. The way her skin clung to his, tacky and wet. She didn’t let go in the same way he didn’t pull away. Link wanted to help, but _how?_

She rolled onto her back and sat up. The best friend lay next to her thigh, lewdly adhering to the bedding it touched. Link felt his entire body strain to keep him upright. His tongue was a dry, foreign object in his mouth.

All at once, Link remembered to look at her face. Her eyes were held at half mast, and she leaned on one arm in a way that even his deepest-suppressed fantasies fell short of.

“I… I can’t do it on my own,” she admits, voice sounding small.

Link blinked back at her, waiting for realization to set in. When it did, he reeled back as if she’d bit him. Whoa! It is one thing to be a fly on the wall—any man would kill to have his position—but it is another thing completely to be a willing participant.

“That’s… The riddle doesn’t…”

Zelda leveled him with an agitated look. “We’re not going to accomplish _anything_ the riddle calls for while I am stuck in this state.”

His job is to protect Zelda, defeat Ganon. That’s it. Those are his only two requirements. Anything outside of that is not something he was put here for, right?

Except, doesn’t his role as Hero require compliance with the trials?

Zelda released his wrist and he naturally pulled it back towards himself. Given he was kneeling, this was a grave mistake. The scent of her hit him like a tree wielded by a Hinox. Link’s breath whistled through his clenched teeth and his hips canted forward into the bedframe involuntarily.

The scent! Desire clawed through him viciously. He wondered what it tasted like.

Did he even possess the self-control necessary for such an undertaking as what she was asking for?

Zelda watched him through her lashes. She was tense, like a predator crouched in the underbrush. Intelligent eyes undressed him, searching for his exact weakness. When she found it, her cloying voice sent shivers down his spine, “I thought you said that you had more experience exercising self-control?”

Link’s heart stopped.

_What?_

It sounded like a challenge. _Let’s see how tough of stuff you’re really made of, Hero._

She knew he was struggling against the bounds of his own knighthood. It was clear from her expression that she didn’t just know it, she _wanted_ him to struggle.

“I…” he began. Lascivious thoughts streaked across his mind, all the ways that he could help her overcome this obstacle. Help her finally find release. How he’d use his hands, that device…

His blood howled at the idea and he resisted his compulsion to launch onto the bed. It was like trying to keep a Lynel bound with daisy crowns.

Zelda’s smile widened salaciously, and she leaned a little closer. She knew she’d landed a mortal wound and went for the kill while she had him off balance. “Would it be helpful if I just _ordered_ you to?”

The whites of his eyes flashed in shock. She used_ that_ against him? That’s hardly fair! Link’s face contorted in sudden, brutal pain and he bit his fist and stared at the ceiling. His breaths came ragged and broken.

_Fuck, Zelda!_

Her shit-eating, self-congratulatory grin earned her a threatening glower in return. _That was a low-blow._

To her credit, she looked almost-sorry. Not sorry, but almost.

Link ran his hands through his hair, desperately trying to get a grip on himself. He considered the implications of her request. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t necessary to complete the trial as far as they could tell. She’s just uncomfortable. He very well could leave her now and complete the trial from a safe distance on the couch at a different time.

But she just looked so… wanting. Trusting.

Despite all of this, he wanted to help her. And what harm could really come from him helping her achieve the requirements of the trials? It’s not taking advantage of her or the situation as long as he’s not enjoying it, right?

It’s purely for her sake.

Not Link; Zelda.

Zelda was right. Link did have incredible self-control. He’d tested the limits of it many times during these trials. What’s one more time? He’s the Hero of Hyrule. He was chosen for a reason.

Resolved, he steeled his expression.

“Okay.”

Zelda’s expression was equal parts guarded and hopeful. “Really?”

Trembling, Link nodded. “Yeah. I’ll help.”

Before he lost courage and backed out, the knight cautiously climbed onto the bed, one hand on the headboard and the other parting the sea of comforters. Zelda’s breathing sped up, still fraught with tension. in the darkness of the room, there was just enough light for Link to see her pupils dilate.

He knelt at her side. Her legs remained pressed together and every muscle coiled with stress under the covers. She was… scared. Wanting, excited, but scared.

Where… what does he do? His inexperience was apparent. He gingerly placed his hand on her bare thigh, as if asking for permission first. The skin leaped beneath his hand.

Virile voices in his mind berated him for not prying her knees apart. Link swallowed and silenced them. That kind of tactic won’t work here. He’s going to help her complete this trial, nothing more.

“Zelda…” he breathed, thick with desire and nerves. His fingers brushed where her legs sealed together. “Do you still want me to help? Let me…?”

The princess visibly shivered. With a shaky breath, she nodded and forced herself to relax.

Link explored the long expanse of her smooth skin, the dip of her hip bone, the space between her navel and her curls. Zelda sounded tormented, and something in the back of his mind said _welcome to my world._

He was so focused on his goal, he’d missed that Zelda leaned forward, her breath on his neck. The soft press of her lips to the space below his ear zapped a lightning rod to his groin and he hissed. She seemed wounded that he pulled away, pulse pounding in his ears.

_Kiss her take her touch her spread her grind her—_

King Rhoam eating a roasted bird leg. Stalnox eyes. Lizal squawks.

Link’s eyes clenched tight. He shook his head and set a firm hand on her shoulder, pressing her back into the pillows. “Lay back,” he husked.

He forced himself to breathe and focus on his task. Really, he wasn’t sure what he was doing. She squirmed as his hand trailed lower and her legs shifted just the slightest bit. The best friend rolled to where his knee dented the mattress. Curious, tentative fingers moved down her lips and Zelda whimpered again.

Bolstered, the knight curled his fingers and was body-slammed by the feeling of _hot soft slick_ all at once. Both of them whined at once. Zelda’s hips canted forward into his hand, desperate for more friction, more _anything!_

“Link,” she complained.

He searched, fingers trailing up, until she gasped. Found it. Now that he’s focused, it does feel different than the rest of her. Experimentally, he brushed his fingers against it in a soft circle. Zelda’s spine arched in a way that made him feel powerful; Her soft moan vibrating through him. X action equals Y result. He’s starting to get it.

His body may be screaming but having a task at hand gave his mind the upper hand. All he had to do was focus completely on her, and he would be golden. They’d complete the trial, and he can berate himself in the peace and comfort of Hyrule and linear time.

It was a solid plan until Zelda’s hand shakily trailed up his thigh. Liquid desire wrested all control away and his fingers faltered. The groan he swallowed was pitiful at her light touch. “Zelda—I…”

Not fast enough. Her hand smoothed over the front of his trousers, pressing even and firm pressure along the length of his erection. He heard the sound of iron bending, will snapping under the gargantuan heat. The whine he let out was more pathetic than he’d ever admit to.

His hand stilled hers and he shook his head. “No this—This is about you,” he ground out, agonized. Zelda was about to complain when he shifted out of her reach until she realized he was pushing back more of the blankets out of their way. He indulged in the sight of her long legs, but Zelda felt them close self-consciously under his stare.

Right. She’s nervous, too.

He shifted down towards her ankles. Link’s hand glided along her thigh, her calf, no sudden movements, the way he would be careful not to spook a horse when tending their hooves. He knelt between her feet and tenderly placed his hands on her closed knees.

The message was clear: _Open when you’re ready._

He met her eyes; They were wanting and nervous. She read him, scouring for ill-intent, for any indication that he would be scathing in his review of her. When she found none she swallowed, nodded, and relaxed.

Now _this_ is a vulnerable position. If it didn’t satisfy the Major Test of Trust, nothing would.

That is, if Link isn’t struck down by Hylia’s wrath here and now.

Link leaned forward. One of his hands on her hip held her in place and the other returned to her folds. Curiously, he pressed at her entrance. It was impossibly tight; he thought that she wouldn’t possibly accommodate his finger. He was wrong.

She gasped, wanting it, so he acquiesced and gently (too gently) pushed in. Hot, tensing walls, with textures he was too overwhelmed to identify surrounded it. There was no quieting his vivid imagination providing the heady feeling of himself buried to the hilt in it.

Link ground his teeth together so hard his jaw creaked._ That’s not the purpose of this!_ It’s about Zelda.

“Curl your finger,” she begged.

Perhaps he was enrolled in the Intermediate Vai course after all. He did as he was told and found something distinctly different. Zelda gasped and arched her back, hand gripping the one holding her hip. _There. _

He rocked his hand back and forth, aiming for that same spot and was rewarded with Zelda gripping her own hair in anguish. The potent knowledge that he was driving her crazy made him want to endlessly chase that feeling.

He added another finger and Zelda choked on a sob. 

Feeling no resistance, Link curled them both and worked a steady rhythm back and forth that had Zelda’s spine twitching. “Link,” she said again, a needy sound that tried and failed to be a complaint. He couldn’t help smiling back down at her.

He wondered…

Could he angle his hand just right so as to…? It’s awkward, and his hand isn’t made to stretch like that. Maybe if he turned-- No, it didn’t hit that spot just right. He’d need two.

“What’re you—_Oh.”_

His free hand moved to lend a thumb to gently circle her clit while the other continued rocking back and forth into her. Zelda moaned deeply, grinding forward into his thumb and fingers. Link wasn’t sure why, but he pulled away, denying her the pressure she greedily tried to steal from him.

“You ask for my help, I get to do this my way.”

Zelda growled in frustration and glowered at him. Usually, that look would bring him to heel in short order. Now, however, Link narrowed his eyes right back at her. He knew she wouldn’t ask him to stop. He was proven right as her head fell back, a sign of submission.

He rewarded her good behavior by increasing the pace on her pearl and pushing his fingers hard into her, one, three, five times.

He felt her clench and shiver around him, something very different and distinct. When he stopped, she snarled in agitation. She’d already been pushed to the edge! Why did he need to edge her further?

Honestly, fair question.

For the purpose of the trial, it should plenty suffice to bring her up once as quickly as he could, then go back to bleak professionalism. Who knows? Maybe her constructive criticism had landed. Maybe he has the inquisitive nature of a scholar after all. Maybe he wanted to administer a dose of turnabout.

Maybe he’s just a completionist.

He built her back up again, consistent and unyielding. Zelda’s nails scratched the fabric of the sheets. Link felt his own desperation coiling behind his navel, tightening everything painfully close into himself. However, with his mind engaged, so rapt with attention on her, it could scream all it wanted.

Link was in control.

When he saw her toes curl, the clenching around his fingers becoming erratic, he slowed down. Zelda hissed and passed him an unhappy expression. He looked perfectly neutral back at her, which only seemed to incense her indignant frustration all the more. 

He’s not enjoying this. He’s not taking advantage of this situation.

He doesn’t enjoy the way she reacts to the most minute change in his pace. Doesn’t relish in the way she stubbornly refuses to beg for it, testing his patience and finding it as vast as the Gerudo Desert. Definitely isn’t etching the obscene beauty of moonlit curves glistening with sweat into his retinas.

His body would receive no release, so it’s okay, right?

Are there moral implications for simply having _fun? _

His movements faltered at that last thought. Link’s anxiety notched up and he was just about to spiral into a train of thoughts that were decidedly _less fun_ when Zelda’s voice snapped him out of it.

“_Link!_” she cried, exasperated. He met her eyes staring dangerously at him. It was clear she couldn’t take much more. “You are being _exceptionally_ unkind.”

Desire pulsed painfully through his groin at having his words thrown back at him.

He supposed he was being unkind. _Quit thinking of yourself. Focus on her._

Decision time. Zelda might have chosen to answer with _I’m not kind, _but Link isn’t her. He searched her eyes, considering something. Her face flushed when he nodded resolutely.

Link reached for the best friend leaning against Zelda’s thigh.

He tried to turn it to the first setting; His hands were too slippery. He used a blanket for traction while Zelda’s breathing grew impossibly shallow. Finally, he’d succeeded, and erupted into vibrations in his hand. The shocks went up his arm, like hitting his funny bone, and he had to flex to counteract it and maintain grip.

Zelda sounded like he’d shot her with an arrow.

This is… foreign. New. He could approximate what things would feel like to her based on what he knew, but the strength of this particular weapon was an unknown to him. Testing the waters, he set it against the inside of her thigh just to see.

It shivered under the contact. She licked her lips and said his name, heady with anticipation.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He saw the way that she flinched even from her own touch with the device. Still, he summoned courage and grazed it over the length of her slit, _so _gentle. Zelda hissed, pressing her hips forward into it until the pitch of the buzzing changed.

_Holy Hylia._

Link moved before he’d even realized he’d had an idea. He slipped a hand under one of her cheeks to angle her differently, his shoulder nudging her other leg further out of the way. He lay prostrate before her, determined to stay focused on his work despite the bed providing pressure and friction where he so desperately wanted it.

The device pressed into her agonizingly slow and Zelda sobbed.

He was so _close _to her. The sweet, pithy scent of her made his head swim. If he thought that the viscous sounds of her touching herself were loud before, then this is outright deafening. The device slid in _so_ easily, despite being larger than his fingers. Both of them moaned, and Link’s body ground into the softness of the mattress involuntarily.

Sweat dampened his hair and he ground his forehead into her thigh in anguish.

He’s in control. He is.

The tightness of her pushed the friend back into his hand without him having to withdraw it. On instinct, he pushed it back into her, and the thigh he rested on quivered. Zelda moaned into the flesh of her arm.

Completely in control.

He pushed it back into her again, a little harder, a little deeper. A burst of something wetted the front of his trousers, ratcheting his incessant need higher and higher. He knew Zelda was absolutely losing her mind, but did she have any idea of how much effort it took for him to keep his?

He licked his lips and the sweat of her tanged salty on his tongue.

What would she taste like?

Completely in control.

He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, growing bold enough to levy the soft skin with open-mouthed attention. The buzzing sound roared and quieted at a steady pace, free then muffled, over and over again. Link’s wrist and arm burned, and he desperately focused on that tiny bit of pain to try and forget how his hips ground into the mattress.

It’s completely, all for Zelda. Not for him.

The hand underneath her pulled her a little closer, his nose pressed into the crook of her hip. The little brush of her curls tickled his nose.

Zelda suddenly sat up, alarmed. “Whoa! Wha—”

On instinct, Link stilled all movements, the device continuing to hum inside of her. She shivered, but her wide eyes didn’t move off of his. “What’re you…?”

Link watched her, his heated gaze searing her as he fought to keep his desires in check. Silence sat between them as they each tried and failed to read each other’s thoughts.

“I…” He glanced down to her mound, then back up. “Should I not…?”

He was looking for permission. Zelda made a face that he would’ve expected her to make if he just proposed out of nowhere.

In this exact moment, he just might.

Tense silence.

Finally, Zelda overcame her shock and bit her lip. _She wants me to_, Link realized with a jolt.

It lit an inferno inside him. His grip on the best friend tightened and he worked it into her with renewed passion. Her mouth fell open and she laid back, helpless to do anything but hang on as he angled and worked and _searched_.

Nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of his mouth on her. His tongue gently explored the spot she needed him, tantalizingly soft despite the hard thrusts of the device into her. _Such self-control!_

He moaned at the taste of her, sending a completely separate source of vibrations through her. Sweet and sapid with a _kick_, like spicy simmered fruit. Zelda’s slim fingers threaded through his hair, encouraging, and he whimpered into her.

His free hand slipped out from under her and took on the new task of holding her lips out of his way as he hungrily devoured her alive.

_The taste the sound the feel the slick the vibration her hands in his hair— _

He’s losing control.

Zelda writhed, unbidden as his tongue slowly increased in pressure, flattening and turning and circling in ways that made the bottoms of her feet burn. “Holy _fuck, _Link!” Her hands fisted in his hair, desperately holding him to her, needing—wanting—so _close_!

She clenched hard against the device and Link provided the needed force to thrust it back into her, all the way, the circle of his fist flattened against her core. He ground his chin harder against her, feeling it drip lewdly down his neck. He couldn’t get enough. His lips pressed all the way around her clit and he _sucked._

All at once her hips spasmed, pleasure wringing a loud moan from her as it crashed unbidden over her. Zelda saw stars as her body clenched so hard the device was pushed out.

Liquid splashed against Link’s neck in irregular spurts.

He groaned and continued licking her, grinding his tongue against her until painful sparks of overstimulation had her pushing him away. He whined in protest, as if she’d taken away his favorite thing in all of Hyrule.

Link’s clenched eyes slowly opened.

They were both out of breath, completely soaked in sweat with clothes and sheets sticking to them. The best friend continued to buzz against the inside of Zelda’s thigh. Link’s hairband was gone, somewhere. Zelda was delirious with the aftermath of her pleasure.

Link was completely soaked from chin to chest. His hair clung irregularly to his wet skin. The entire area of bedding between them was darkened with the results of her pleasure. He couldn’t see it hidden in his trousers, but he suspected it had gone purple from all the pressure built inside of him.

“_Holy… _Link. Wow, I…” she panted, dragging her hand over her eye. It didn’t look like she could see anything through the post-coital haze.

_What in Din was that?!_

He definitely didn’t enjoy the burst of pride in his chest at reducing her to that state.

Shakily, Link wiped his mouth on the back of his arm and tried unsuccessfully to turn off the best friend with slippery fingers. What in Hyrule could _possibly_ be the purpose of the second setting? Overkill doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Finally, he managed to silence the device. His hand continued to vibrate long after he turned it off.

Zelda’s astral projection floated back down into her body and she stirred. She’d never experienced such satiation. Blurry green eyes rolled forward to look at him knelt between her ankles.

Despite the situation, Zelda couldn’t help but smile lazily at his disheveled state and breathe a soft laugh. “You look wretched.”

Link felt embarrassment flood him. He _does_ look wretched. What had he just done?! He heard the screaming of his blood in his ears. Now what?

Zelda didn’t pick up on any of his anxieties, drunk on his act of kindness. She sat up and touched his chest glistening with her fluids and dragged her nail through it. She eyed him from chin to chest, a ghost of her scholarly expression on her face. “It’s… never done that before.”

Link’s face couldn’t flush a deeper shade of scarlet.

“Do you… feel better?” he ventured, concern in his eyes.

_So endearing._

She made a happy little noise and nodded. “I do… thank you.” She stared at him under heavy lids. She could see the agony and _need_ on his face, the way he strained against the confines of his trousers. Poor thing.

His throat worked. Don’t look at me like that.

“Happy I can help,” he squeaks, hating the way his voice cracked.

She leaned forward a little further, her hand bound for his thigh. Alarm shot through the knight. If she touched him now, he’d be completely and utterly done for! Link yelped jumped back, rolling backwards off of the bed, and held the post for balance. “I—Uh…”

Zelda looked _so_ inviting. Warm. She tastes so good…

His self-control hung on by a thread. If he stayed one more moment, he might do something drastic.

“I-I’ve gotta go.”

Link had already stumbled over various obstacles in the room and closed the door behind him before Zelda could say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all of your wonderful comments and feedback! I'm much too shy to reply to all of them, but know I see you and love you ;w;


	20. Double Standards

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Zelda deemed herself presentable, freshly cleaned and dressed in her Hylian travel clothes, she steeled herself and found Link in the central plaza. He was busy making use of the communal cooking pots, busying himself with preparing hydromelons and voltfruits and hearty durians. White stew-like liquid simmered in the pot.

He wore wide-hipped Gerudo pants and nothing else. That’s probably a good move, considering what he had before is likely ruined now. His hair kept getting in his face as he worked, and he continually brushed it out of his eyes.

“Good morning,” she says just to announce her presence, even though there’s no such thing and morning here. Link tensed, not having noticed her approach, then offered her a professional nod. A piece of his hair got in his eye and he swiped it away.

“You probably want this.” Zelda pulled the hairtie she wasn’t using off of her wrist and extended it to him. The knight stared at it, then her, a confused look on his face. “I found it in—Uh, you left this behind.”

Link tamped down on a memory that clearly wanted to overtake him, and gratefully accepted. So that’s where it went. He made quick work of tying his sandy hair out of his way and continued preparing their meal in silence. She watched as he took the pot off of the fire to cool, and slowly added pieces of hydomelon to the concoction. To her fascination, the milky substance thickened as the melon quickly chilled it. Having a cooled yogurt to work with, Link added the rest of the ingredients to complete the parfait. He handed her a soup ladle and a bowl.

“Thanks…” she says, serving herself. He hasn’t said a single word to her yet and honestly, she doesn’t blame him. What is there to say?

_Sorry I asked you to do something you weren’t comfortable with?_

_Sorry I ate you out, I promise it was just for the trial?_

_Sorry I ruined the only shirt that fit you?_

They ate in dreaded, heavy silence.

She supposed that they ought to at least celebrate in their completion of the trial. That feline should be showing up any time now to whisk them away to the Spring of Unity, and she can let him forget it ever happened.

As if on cue, the blue glow of the Kittee appeared around a corner as it stepped into the plaza. Curious eyes watched them, tail twitching low behind it. Saucer-shaped ears swiveled this way and that and eventually focused straight ahead on them.

Link followed Zelda’s tense gaze.

His stomach dropped so hard he nearly lost breakfast.

“Grr… mreow?”

Had it even grown?! Zelda’s mouth hung open in disbelief. Maybe a little since it jumped on the bed, but it was hard to tell. She was expecting it to be the size of a horse after the stunt they pulled the night before.

Zelda exchanged a glance with Link. It seems he was thinking the same thing.

The Kittee had no idea what to make of this strange energy coming from them.

Link leaned his face into his palm, and Zelda rolled her head back with a groan. What is it going to take to pass this cursed trial?!

Zelda scooped some of the sweet yogurt onto her finger and offered it to the Kittee, who happily trotted over and licked it clean. “As far as I can tell, it grew but… definitely not in proportion to the effort we put in.”

Link nodded, his perfect mask of neutrality cracking. She couldn’t have said that any more tactfully, and yet memories still assaulted him.

The Kittee expressed its thanks by marking her hand with its chin. Zelda nearly forgot all her problems when it flopped on its side, continuing to rub and nuzzle the side of her leg. “This creature is the vehicle that got us here when it grew to a size capable of jumping from platform to platform,” Zelda thought aloud. Her finger toyed with the soft toes of the Kittee’s paw, drawing and retracting its claws happily. “That means that because it is still growing, it is a part of the trial.”

She heard Link swallow.

“In order for the Kittee to become a functional vehicle for us to get to Vah Naboris, it would have to be…”

Link eyed the creature, as if he could will it to the size they need. “A lot bigger.”

What is it going to take to get it there? Had they not done enough? Judging by the hangdog expression on Link’s face, they’d already done too much as it is.

Zelda massaged her temple with one hand while the other let Kittee lick it to its heart’s content. Even in her frustration, she found it impossible to be angry at the sweet creature. She patted her crossed leg, motioning for it to come nearer. The Kittee snapped to its belly, eyed the proffered spot, then got up and examined for a way to make itself fit.

“I… genuinely thought we’d surpassed the requirements of the trial.” She hated how embarrassment burned in her ears when she was trying to think scientifically about this. However, it’s very hard to be clinical and scholarly when by all appearances, they’d just been given the feedback that it hadn’t been hardly enough.

Neither expressed their ideas of what _exactly_ would comprise “enough” for this trial.

If only the elephant in the room could jump high enough to take them to Vah Naboris.

Kittee curled up in the space between Zelda’s legs, but was too heavy. She adjusted, which Kittee took deep offense to, until it realized she was just better accommodating it. It seems like years ago since it was small enough to curl up on one of her legs. Settled, it purred happily into the warmth of her thigh.

“I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter,” Zelda said suddenly, making Link’s spine stiffen. _What?_ She smiled as she threaded her fingers through the soft blue fur of the creature. “I don’t ever want to leave here anyway. Kittee is my friend now and I love them.”

Link’s bristling hackles went down. _Oh._

Bad time for a joke.

Zelda could sense his anxiety and opened her mouth to ask him something. Link passed her a stare that said, _don’t._

Oh, okay. Apparently, the answer is _no, we aren’t going to talk about it. _

Even without saying anything, they seemed to have drawn the same conclusions. Zelda sighed heavily and gave him a soft olive-branch of an expression. _Can we please work together on this?_

She was right and he knew it. Link pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve some pressure. He had too many thoughts swimming around in his head, mainly about honor and duty and Hero and _last night_ and some nebulous worry that went with all of it.

There’s no way for him to pass the trials and remain the stoic knight he’s regressed back into.

Zelda threw him a lifeline. “I like your pants?” she tries, giving him a lopsided grin. It at least got him to look at her with a flat expression.

“That makes one of us,” he deadpanned. However, that ghost of a smile on one side of his mouth told her that he’s not completely gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“I knew there was something missing from Gerudo Town,” Zelda says, tinkering with the machine in front of her. It was a large contraption stationed near the stairs outside the Noble Canteen. She’d opened the access panel, assessing something in the intricate wiring. Kittee was interested in a particular gear, and Zelda gently brushed its paw away.

“What is it?” Link said behind her. He’d tried having some time alone to sort himself out but found that not watching over her produced more anxiety than it fixed. Now, he watched her fiddle with some unseen flaw in the machine.

Zelda didn’t answer. She worked a tool she procured from her room into a bolt. When she deemed it satisfactory, she pulled back some and pressed the topaz stone into its slot. Electricity coursed through the machine, and it played the tune of the Gerudo theme. Wind instruments made the high notes and steady drumbeats provided the rhythm. Link instantly recognized the song.

“You… made this?”

Zelda looked delighted. She wiped the sweat from her brow and grinned widely at her success. “Yes, I did,” she brimmed with pride. “I figured out how to make a simple tune first, then adjusted it to the timing I wanted. Adding other instruments was easy from there. Topaz is able to harness electricity, and when you run it through metal it can perform a variety of tasks.”

Link purposefully didn’t think about topaz or its many uses. 

“Just for fun?”

“Yes and no,” Zelda flicked her hair, “It was fun, but the owner of the Noble Canteen said that the bar’s location was just out of sight that many tourists miss it. So, I built her a music box to help attract business for her.”

Zelda’s smile was infectious. She genuinely had a blast making this device. It sang sweetly to them, an ode to the Gerudo culture. No wonder this is her Zelda Island. “Free of charge? That’s nice of you.”

Her eyes cut a mischievous little smile at him. “Well… not completely. I didn’t charge any rupees, if that’s what you mean.”

Link furrowed his brows at her, curious. “In return, she taught me how to make a Noble Pursuit.”

She seemed happy with this trade. “What is… Isn’t that just a drink at the bar?”

Zelda stared at him wryly. “Link, I am a noblewoman born into the royal family. I’m not allowed anything outside my daily prayers. Do you think I’ve ever been granted free access to ‘just’ a drink?”

Link couldn’t help but laugh at that. Hey, he’s not the only one suppressed under the weight of his title, after all. “Fair enough.”

She’d broken though his professional barrier to the nugget of friendship they’d built together. That was good enough for her. Zelda worried her lip as she thought of something to say to him, and he did his best to stay neutral. Her first instinct was to discuss the trials, to pick and pull it apart with logic and reason. Analyze why their success was so minimal.

But honestly? Zelda just wanted a break.

So, she allowed an exuberant smile at him and persuaded, “I know you’re always looking for new recipes.”

How could he say no to that? He made a little gesture of _after you_ and followed her up the stairs. Zelda didn’t hide her delight as she bounded up. The last time she’d given herself a break from her responsibilities was when she was last in Gerudo Town with a sky above her. She slid behind the bar, enjoying the feeling like she was intruding as she pilfered through the items stocked in it.

“Wait, how did you already know what a Noble Pursuit is? I wouldn’t have ever expected you of all people to come to Gerudo Town to relax. Or anywhere for that matter.”

Link gave her a look that indicated he didn’t like that comment but answered her question anyway. “I was tailing you. It’s not suspicious to sit in a bar and people-watch.” Link shrugged noncommittally at the look she gave him. He had already apologized. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The owner looked at me and thought I was underage. I couldn’t exactly prove her otherwise.”

Zelda seemed to think that was strange. “Wait, cover your face from the nose down and look up at me.” Confused, Link slowly did as he was told, eyes panned up at Zelda. She appraised him, then shrugged, “Yeah, I wouldn’t have served you either.”

She laughed to herself at his affronted stare while she busied herself collecting ingredients. “Sorry, but a cute Hylian girl with giant doe eyes comes in here—voice probably high and soft because that’s the best you can do—” Link chewed his cheek in a pout, and Zelda giggled. _Got him. _“I’d kick her out, too.”

Link’s offense wore off quickly at the good-natured ribbing. He watched her, curious as to what she was doing. “Okay, I think I remember. It’s two parts voltfruit juice (so four, for two servings) … wait, no, rim the glasses with courser bee honey first.” She mumbled to herself as she tried to recall all the steps. Hyrdomelon soda, three parts, so six. Ice, annnndddd…”

She looked around for something, then found it hidden under the bar.

“Fermented and distilled hearty durian.” The smell coming from the bottle was acetic, which was better than the natural stench of the sweet fruit. She added the concoction to a metal mixing cup, swished it, then poured out two for each of them.

She got the measurements wrong and a little too much poured over the lip of the glass. “Oops. Sorry, Link.” She gently nudged the overflowed glass Link’s way, making a mess on the countertop. It was a pink-green color. She looked so proud of her creation that Link couldn’t help but be amused at her mirth.

He leaned forward to get some off the top, but Zelda stopped him. “Wait!” she found a little bottle of flowers, then placed a stem in his glass. “Garnish with cool safflina. There! A Noble Pursuit.”

Link looked back up at her, eyebrow cocked. “I got about half of that.”

“You pronounced ‘thank you,’ wrong,” she corrected royally.

He snorted back at her, then took a sip. Sweet from the honey, then sour-strong from the voltfruit and durian, and then sweet again. He coughed and the knight’s face twisted into a very unintimidating expression. “Wow… that’s…”

“Strong?” she grinned, relishing in his misery.

He nodded, trying to adjust to the overwhelming taste. Things that have intoxicating effects were never something he partook in or had any interest in, really. Link is just indulging Zelda, and it was working. She laughed lightly and teased, “I would have thought you of all people would be able to handle a strong taste.”

Link’s entire face went radish-red at her comment. “Zelda!” he gaped.

Zelda blinked at him, confused. When she realized what he must have assumed, she suppressed a laugh and corrected, “…Because you enjoy spicy food, Link.”

Having assumed wrong only embarrassed him further. 

Zelda suppressed the urge to tease him some more over it, but mercifully left it alone. She sipped her own drink and watched the Kittee lounge on the couches to her right. It looked so happy to stretch out across the whole couch, claws opening the fabric to reveal stuffing without meaning to.

The music box clanged, and the Gerudo theme started over again.

“I can’t help feeling a little attached to it,” Zelda says with a soft smile, “It seems cruel for the trials to get me attached to something only to take it away when I’ve succeeded. Is it silly if I’m not in a rush to leave because I enjoy its company?”

Link shook his head. He understands the sentiment.

“The closer we get to reaching the shrines, the more dangerous it becomes,” he reminds her levelly. “It may not be our friend anymore by that time.”

Zelda clearly didn’t like that but made no move to correct him. “It is strange that any sort of enmity would be fostered in the Trials of Unity. I think I will hold out hope that Kittee will continue to be kindhearted.” She eyed the band of skin where the gauzes had once been. The cuts had scabbed over just fine.

Link seemed to disagree. That’s not exactly how animals operate. There is no morality to them. He wasn’t one to be a buzzkill, so he remained quiet. Not that she would have been listening anyway. Zelda carried her creation over to the lounge area, sitting near Kittee’s head. The creature flopped back down, face on her lap as she petted it. It no longer seemed able to make that soft purring sound, instead a raspy happy-growl took its place.

Zelda seemed contented, if just for the moment, and Link would happily take that.

They listened to the music box clang again and start over. “Mmm. I’m gonna have to fix that,” she mumbled to herself. Even while calm, her mind continued to pulse in activity. Link saw her try and shut them down, push them away, and live in the moment. “Wait. No, I won’t. This is a memory. Wouldn’t I have to fix it in the real Gerudo Town?”

She’s so transparent.

Link nursed another swallow from his glass. He knew what was coming, so he braced himself.

“Link, I… I don’t know how to express this without coming across as, um, crass.” He tamed his face into neutrality. “I… want to express gratitude.” She didn’t meet his eye as she specifically chose her words. “You did something… kind, for me, that you didn’t have to do.” Her cheek clenched, embarrassed. “At least, we think you didn’t have to do. I’m honestly not sure anymore. I—”

It’s a rare thing to see the eloquent Princess Zelda flounder.

Kindly, Link stepped in. “You’re welcome.”

Zelda’s miffed expression indicated that was not a sufficient answer. _That’s it?_ _It was your idea to go down on me, but all you’re gonna say is ‘_You’re welcome’_?_

Link had to try and search for a question to answer. She was asking him why he'd done it. Why he went above and beyond the trail. That’s a fair question, when he’d pointedly avoided her to the best of his abilities up until that point. Link sighed. He felt that knot coming back into his shoulder.

“I wanted to help.” He grimaced at the simplicity. Link took another sip as if he was trying to cover the memory of a different taste. “You’re… very persuasive.”

That’s fair, Zelda thought. “I take pride in that, thank you.” He snorted back at her but didn’t answer. It seemed like Zelda was chewing on a thought or had a point to bringing this up. He wisely waited her out. “Even… in that situation. You were—” She searched for words, struggling to find them. “It would have been perfectly acceptable for you to… It seems cruel that you didn’t—"

“I… think I get what you’re trying to ask me,” Link says, holding up a hand. Zelda sighed in relief. She suddenly seemed very preoccupied with petting Kittee in her lap. He tried to think of a succinct answer to that question. Why did he refuse himself and indulge her? “There’s… a lot of answers to that.”

Zelda’s eyes panned up to him, watching him patiently.

“It’s…” he cleared his throat, tried again, “I’m the Hero of Hyrule and your knight. I have two tasks: defeat Ganon, protect you. That’s it. To… do anything outside of what is strictly required of me is just opportunistic. It’s taking advantage of the situation. I refuse to use you like that.”

Zelda was immediately reminded of his anecdote at the Kakariko Inn. _Ashamed I was tempted at all to use someone._

She tried to process that. The way he didn’t look at her indicated he is just as ashamed in this moment as he was at the Inn. He was genuinely tempted.

_Sounds like he was more tempted to use you._

_Doesn’t matter._

“Link… I think you misunderstood. I, uh, meant by yourself."

“Me too.”

Zelda blinked at him in confusion. She didn’t follow his logic. “What?” How is relieving tension in a horribly uncomfortable state, by oneself, using someone else? “By your logic, I used you. Is that really what you think?”

He shook his head. “No, no… It’s just. The trial. It was my call to stay and help.” He felt like he wasn’t making sense. “I figured it was fine as long as we completed the trial and I didn’t step out of my bounds. If I didn’t, you know, think of myself.”

Zelda’s head hurt and she massaged her temple. “Wait. So, just so I understand, you think that if you don’t hate every moment of an encounter, you’re just _using_ a person? Yet I’m allowed to indulge to my heart’s content?” Her drink spilled a little at the wide gesture she made. “Link, that’s absurd. You hear how absurd that is, right?”

If Link had Kittee’s ears, they’d be flat against his skull.

“This whole situation is absurd.”

Zelda squinted hard at him, disliking that he pulled a logical fallacy into her intelligent discourse. “That may be true, Link, but that doesn’t mean we have to be.”

Link was tensed, as if she’d berated him. Something was under his skin, and Zelda wanted to know what. “Zelda, I’m not going to take advantage of this situation. That’s not even a knight thing, that’s just being a good person.”

“I enjoyed myself. Does that make me not a good person?”

“No! It’s not like that.”

Zelda knew a double standard when she saw one. Her hostile tone softened, and she sighed. “Link, remember how I told you that you’re kind to everyone except yourself?” He stared openly at her. “This is a prime example.”

Link was quiet, having been disarmed by her soft tone.

Silence settled between them, pregnant and static. Even Kittee was silent, watching the verbal sparring with second-hand discomfort. 

Zelda's shrewd stare tore him down to all the little bits and pieces that comprised of Link. She was considering something. Really, really considering something. 

_Why are you looking at me like that?_

He seems to have this pervasive idea that he's not allowed to enjoy anything if it's part of the trials. As if being in a situation like this makes consent a non-starter. That divine intervention completely negates the point of free will, something Zelda's not sold on.

But it's more than that. He thinks he's not allowed to enjoy _anything, _trials or no. That his identity begins and ends with Hero. Every second not spent _being the Hero_ is just time spent shirking responsibility. Link _the person_ is denied everything that doesn't fit with Link the Hero's very, very narrow utility. He doesn't think he's worthy.

It's why he refused the man in Kakariko and why he bit his fist in her room.

It wouldn't stand to reason that she would be the _have_, and he would be the _have-not_. These are the Unity Trials, after all.

Zelda may have just realized the source of the problem: She has to break him of the aversion to self-interest.

“Link, I think I may have figured out what we’re supposed to do.” 


	21. Digging Graves

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link stared at her open-mouthed.

“Zelda… you can’t possibly expect me to agree to that.”

She saw him try to snap himself out of his stupefied state, fail, and then run his hands through his hair. His furious blush ran from forehead to toes, like all of his blood wanted to get as far away from him as it could. Honestly, _he_ wanted to get as far away from him as he could.

“Honestly? I don’t,” answers Zelda, looking anywhere but at him. “If you’ve got anything to counter my logic, I am definitely open to it.”

Link looked distinctly squeamish. “I…” He swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t move. Even though there was no one here, even though Link knew this was Zelda’s memory, it still felt like they shouldn’t be speaking like _that_ in public.

Or anywhere, for that matter!

Link dragged his hand down his face. It was clammy, and only made things worse.

“I’m… only proposing an idea. There is no time limit, so you don’t have to make an immediate decision.” Zelda offered kindly. “I wasn’t being facetious when I said I am not anxious to leave. This is my favorite memory, my favorite place, and I have my own pet.”

Link glared at her.

She stared back blankly. “I meant Kittee.”

Link cinched shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Right. Calm down, knight, she’s not doing this maliciously.

“Well… it certainly sounds like a ‘Major Test of Trust,’” Link sighed. He finally stopped his pacing and collapsed on the canteen sofa. There was absolutely no getting him to make eye contact with her, and Zelda’s fine by that.

“Think of it: Everything done so far has been completed mutually. I completed the second trial before you did, but it only opened when we both fulfilled the riddle.” All the other trials were completed at the same time. “The fact that Kittee grew means we had the right idea, but…”

Link swallowed. But they forgot the other half.

“Zelda, I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”

“You aren’t asking me to do anything,” Zelda interrupted him. Her tone said _I am asking you_, but that strictly speaking wasn’t true.

Link eyed the space where the Kittee had occupied. It had left, finding their energies unpleasant. “And you think that… all of the progress we’ve made will show up at once. That it will grow enough to get us to Vah Naboris.”

Zelda worried her lip. “I’m as sure as I can be.”

He saw Link waging a war within himself. Link vs Hero vs Destiny vs Honor. Zelda couldn’t count the number of casualties. His face twisted at a thought occurring to him. “That sounds like it’s going to hurt.”

Huh?

“Hurt?” Zelda echoed, confusion evident on her face. “What are you—wait. Are we… even talking about the same thing?” Link’s eyes widened as they both realized that no, they weren’t. When she explained her theory on reciprocity, she’d been ambiguous on _exactly _what that entails.

Realization hit her. _Oh._ He took it to be very, very literal.

An exact one-for-one of getting what he gave. Having a best friend.

“I hadn’t considered that…” Zelda ventures into the stunning silence. “But now that you mention it, that _would _be an exact equal exchange.”

Horror drained all the color from Link’s face. Way to dig your own grave, knight! This is why he should have just stayed mute. The more he talks, the more trouble he finds himself in. He put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. _Idiot!_

Empathy clutched Zelda’s heart for him.

She tentatively sat at his side and ignored the way his shoulder flinched under her hand. “Link… I—I won’t ask that of you.” Only at her very weakest did she ever request something he wasn’t fully comfortable with; And even then, he completely had the choice to back out. He’d have to make the call.

It felt like it wasn’t either of their calls.

Link dropped one of his arms, eying Zelda from his hunched position. He looked deeply conflicted. Trying to put words to complex emotions wasn’t his strong suit, so she extended ample amounts of patience to him. “Zelda. It… feels wrong to be coerced by this situation. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Just because it isn’t strictly true, doesn’t negate the fact he feels that way.

She stared at him with her kindest gaze. “You aren’t.”

There were so many things she could have cited to support her claim, but it didn’t matter. The truth is, if anyone is being taken advantage of, it’s _both of them_ by whatever scheme implemented by the Goddesses this is.

That doesn’t completely disqualify their free will. Eternity may be a long time, but it would be shorter than how long it would take for Zelda to ever force Link to do anything. After all, so long as they’re here, Ganon can’t return.

Link cleared his throat. He stared at the plush Gerudo rug in the center of the canteen. The music box clanged and started over. She could see the forming of a decision in Link’s blue eyes.

Finally, he let his shoulders slump. “You never answered my question.”

What? He turned to level her with a stare that was equal parts vulnerable, resigned, and determined. It took Zelda a second to realize what he meant. She half-laughed, a nervous sound. “Well… that depends. Do you _want_ it to hurt?”

All the color that had drained from his face returned at once. “No!” he squeaks, scandalized.

Zelda hid her amusement behind her drink, her expression apologetic. _Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. _Link glowered back at her. “Then it won’t, I promise,” she adds, trying to be nice.

Link looked like a kicked dog. _Poor guy._ The tension was heavy in his shoulders, and Zelda tried her best to derail whatever self-berating train of thought she could see him spiraling down into. “You know…” she hedges, a little more playful, “The offer for you to back out of our bet if you wear a full Vai outfit is still on the table.”

Link huffs, only a little amused at her dumb joke, and ran his hand through his hair. An obscene idea passed in front of his eyes and he visibly shivered, reached for his drink, and threw back the rest of it with a grimace.

“Hard pass.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, this is terrifying.

When they get out of here, Link will have to return to being a mute, stoic knight who keeps his charge ten paces ahead. That is, if suppressing these memories works at all. He may very well be reduced to insanity at the horrible torment wrought upon his psyche. Maybe his mind will be warped so much, he’ll lose focus against Ganon. That seems a fitting punishment.

Link clamped down on his nerves and demanded he get ahold of himself.

“Why do I feel like Urbosa is about to come out and laugh at me? Or kill me?” Link muttered, eyeing the stairwell suspiciously. Somehow, this does all feel like one big, elaborate prank. “I’d prefer she kill me.”

Zelda snorted. “Same.” She extinguished the torches in the room, returning the same kindness he’d given her. The hiss of each flame getting put out sounded like another nail in a coffin. The reality that this is happening at all has been hidden under Link’s soft blanket of denial.

He shifted uncomfortably in Urbosa’s sheets. The heavy weight of the best friend rolled to his thigh and Link jerked away like it had shocked him. There’s no way…

“Do we… does it have to be here?”

Zelda grimaced and extinguished the last torch. “No, no it doesn’t. It’s just, uh, my room is… indisposed at the moment.” She wrinkled her nose. There’s a reason she chose to sleep here in Urbosa’s room the night before. “We could—”

“Here’s fine,” he cut in hastily.

Though she heard him say it, she got the distinct sense that he didn’t really believe it. It didn’t seem like anywhere would be fine. He’d affirmed in some indistinct fashion a few times, but Zelda had not once received a direct yes.

“Is it, though?” she asks, approaching the bedside. She was undeniably nervous, but much worse than that was the feeling she was doing something he didn’t want. “Link, you’re the Hero of Hyrule but… this is _not_ in your job description. I will dig my heels in against doing anything purely because you feel its compulsory.”

Key word: Purely.

Link swallowed at her sincerity. He has every opportunity to say no, to ask her to stop, to demand space. Why does that somehow make it worse? It’s forcing him to make a choice in the affirmative. It’s a choice that inherently goes against his knight’s code, but by all appearances is demanded by his role as Hero.

His eyes panned up to hers, searching. “I…”

Zelda watched him intently like she was trying to fix a music box. All the parts and gears, all the nuts and bolts, every piece she catalogued and appraised in her mind. She’s trying to figure him out. He’s under incredible pressure, both from within and without. Hero vs. Situation vs. Knight.

What he’s failing to consider is, what does Link the _person_ want?

Zelda lifted her knee onto the bed and watched Link’s anxiety skyrocket. He was fighting the urge to flee, to run from an enemy he wasn’t ready to face. Gently, no sudden movements, she approached his side. His bare chest quivered. It’s like he expected her to manhandle him.

Is he nervous or afraid? It’s hard to tell.

“I can’t read your mind, Link.”

Link sighed and leaned his forehead into the Gerudo silk covering his knee. Honestly? He can’t read his mind either. He laughed at that and said, “Me neither.” She hummed, not really a laugh because it wasn’t really a joke. Link mustered all of his thoughts, if just to try and get them in a row. “I… can’t get past this sense that we’re being forced to do… whatever this is.” He gestured widely but stopped at the hurt expression on Zelda’s face. “No, not _you_ forcing. I mean, this whole… contrived situation. It feels like we’ve been robbed of the choice.”

Zelda was about to remind him that he could leave, but then his point began to resonate. Yes, he could leave _this exact spot,_ but he couldn’t leave this dreamworld, this memory, this _place_.

“We’ve got all of eternity, Link,” she says gently. The look on his face indicated that was the wrong answer and she winced. Zelda sighed, and gave more thought to it, “You’re right. It does feel… somewhat forced,” she admits. So many thoughts, so much happening in her mind. It was too heavy, and Zelda collapsed onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t touching Link but laid at his side.

Slowly, he relaxed when he realized she wasn’t going to do anything. He tucked his arm behind his head and analyzed the same piece of stucco on the ceiling that she did, as if it had all of their answers.

The best friend sat between them menacingly.

Thoughtful silence weighted the blankets.

Finally, Zelda spoke. “Divine intervention doesn’t negate freewill. At least, I don’t think it does.” Link turned to her, but she stared forward, still tearing apart her own thoughts. “It doesn’t control my thoughts or fears or desires. It doesn’t shape what I want.”

Link watched her closely. “What do you want?”

A pained expression passed in front of her eyes. Conflict. “I don’t know. Freedom? Reprieve? Success?” Too nebulous; not specific enough. She swept her hair out from under her neck, a frustrated gesture. A little piece of it tickled his nose. Zelda worried her lip between her teeth. “I want the trial done with. I want it all done with.”

Link swallowed a lump. He wanted to provide that, he did, but…

He floundered until she spoke. “But it’s not just that. I liked… forgetting that I was the Princess. I can’t help wishing that, if just for a brief moment, you could forget that you’re the Hero of Hyrule.”

Link huffed. “Me, too.”

Zelda finally turned to look at him, eyes soft and empathetic. She may be the only other person in the world who could even approach knowing what that feels like. “I know that these trials may be demanding but… I think you’re failing to consider what you want. Not Link the Hero. Link the person.” She poked his shoulder with her blunt nail.

It was as if he hadn’t considered it. “It doesn’t matter what I—”

“It does,” she interrupted, warm but concise. “We didn’t think the trials required you to... assist me like that. _You_ chose that. I think that may be the only time I’ve ever met Link the person.”

Link’s face flamed at the memory. She’s right. It was entirely his call, and they didn’t think it was _strictly_ necessary. His tight-fisted control had slipped through his fingers without him even noticing. Zelda watched shame wrap him before he even recognized he felt it. She made to interrupt it. “And I expressed gratitude. If the Princess of Hyrule thanks you for something, you probably should be humble and accept her thanks.”

Pulling rank seemed to work because he flinched like she’d hit a soft spot. _Got him._ She couldn’t help finding his bashful expression endearing.

Zelda shifted to her side and rested her head against her palm. The best friend rolled to where her weight dented the bedding, and she pretended not to notice. Her voice dropped, just the tiniest hint of a change, “Want to know what I want, Link?”

Good old predictable Link. His nervous expression was adorable.

She was quiet, smiling at him like _that_. Not rhetorical. Link found he had lost his voice, but something urged him to use it. “What?”

“I want to return the favor.”

Link’s heart fell out of rhythm.

She liked watching him strain against his own self-control. Loved the way she agonized him just by suggestion. He made a tense sound like he’d just been thrown against a mountain. Perhaps the devious voice in her head could be used for good instead of evil.

“What?” he said again.

A little glimmer of mischief in her eye reflected the scant moonlight. Her arm intruded into their neutral space, fingers lightly touching his bicep. The skin shivered under her touch.

“Not because of the trial. I can’t help… wanting to return your kindness.” She could not have phrased that any more delicately, and yet she felt heat burning the tops of her ears.

Link was rendered actually, fully mute.

Conflict was apparent in his eyes, but it had to move to accommodate desire as well. Thoughts flashed behind his eyes, too quick for Zelda to guess at. Judging by the way he bent the knee closest to her, they weren’t all innocent.

“Zelda…” he said, voice strained. Link’s hand threaded his hair.

She watched him patiently. Zelda had seen him dispose of monsters with the full brunt of his fighting prowess, but to watch Link fight Link was a sight to behold. She’d never seen two Lynels cross swords, but perhaps it would be something like this.

_Poor guy._

Sure, the trial may demand that he gets what he gave. That’s her theory on reciprocity in this place. However, she knew he was just trying to convince himself that he could withstand the treatment and not break whatever pointlessly strict code he’s imposed on himself. Just survive the trial.

That’s not what she’s talking about.

Zelda giggled quietly and moved just a little closer. The best friend rolled heavily onto Link’s thigh and he recoiled like it hurt. Zelda’s hand on his chest stilled him. “I’ll make you a bet,” she whispered. He quivered under her palm in a way that made her feel powerful. Trying to figure out what she was doing, he shifted on his side, their elbows and knees touching. Link searched her eyes: Sincere, kind, mischievous, determined.

She leaned in closer, her nose just hair's width from his. “Twenty rupees I can make you forget that you’re the Hero.”

Arousal slammed into him at the promise in her eyes. The challenge. Her hand slid just a little lower, and she didn't hide the joyful superiority she felt at his reaction. She's not just doing this for the trial. She _wants_ to.

_Her lips the hot springs her moans her taste her shivers her smile her slim fingers-- _

There's no way she can make him forget his burden. But who is he to stop her from trying?

He shuddered and shook his head. "You're on."


	22. Last Warning

~*~*~*~*~*~

Just survive the trial. Get out of here alive. That’s a simple goal, right? Surely, the Hero of Hyrule should be plenty strong enough to succeed at that, right?

Somehow, he’d never faced an enemy as fearsome as Zelda’s curious gaze.

She stared into his eyes, then his lips, and then closed the space between them. It was a light kiss; chaste, sweet. Doesn’t matter. Her breath seared his skin and redirected his blood-flow in an instant. _So soft. _

When she pulled away, he followed after her on instinct, only to find air. Zelda wore a shit-eating, self-congratulatory grin. _This is going to be so easy._

Link’s nostrils flared at the challenge and he stared back, steely-eyed. He’d proven before that he can hold his own against her mind-games. Zelda didn’t seem to react to him, as she withdrew her hand and stared at him appraisingly, hand on her chin.

Zelda was nervous. When Zelda’s nervous, she defaults to thinking out loud. “Let’s see… if my theory is correct, we need to duplicate your kindness for me, except switching roles.” Link felt distinctly underdressed beneath her gaze. He wasn’t sure if it was his own mind supplied the lewd images he saw, or if Zelda transmitted them telepathically. She smiled that smile at him, then decided something. “Alright, go ahead.”

Dumbfounded, Link just stared at her and her evil face. Zelda raised her brows, both impatient and amused. She grinned salaciously. “Whenever you’re ready.”

It’s like he heard boss battle music but saw no boss.

“…What?”

Zelda reclined comfortably into the mass of pillows, her hair going everywhere. “Just pretend I’m not here.” Horror colored his eyes, and Zelda giggled back at him, a little sound both nervous and entertained. She made a little _hurry up, get to it_ gesture with her hand.

He glared at her. _You cannot be serious._

Judging by the look in her eye, yes, she absolutely can be serious.

Link swallowed and rolled onto his back, if just to get away from her knowing gaze. He’d been her appointed knight for quite some time now. After particularly long stretches of time, when he found his own corporeal needs to be a liability in battle, Link had given in. These moments stolen for himself to relieve some pressure were executed with the utmost stealth and discretion. He’d checked in triplicate that Zelda hadn’t even realized that he was gone. They wouldn’t exactly be described as self-care sessions; Too fast, too efficient.

He’d also never had an audience. Link made a tense noise from all of the pressure in his diaphragm. Zelda looked like she was having the time of her life.

Her eyes narrowed and her cocky grin cut him to the core. “Yeah. Now you know how that feels.”

Way to put him in his place. Link didn’t answer her with anything other than a whine (not that he could) and shakily trailed his hand lower on his abdomen. It was dark in this room, but he knew she could see what he was doing, could see the way his hand trembled. The thin silk of the Gerudo pants was obviously not designed to accommodate Voe anatomy and were essentially useless in the way of modesty.

Link takes it back. _This_ is the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his life.

Zelda’s breathing changed just the slightest bit as his hand dipped under the waistline. Even with her curious gaze, his body reacted to his own touch. The back-and-forth between arousal and anxiety, over and over again, had left him jumpy and overwrought.

He tentatively wrapped his hand around himself and heat pooled just under his palm. Link tried to focus on that, just that, but the weight of Zelda’s analytical gaze was distracting. She was fascinated, as if she’d just taught a Guardian the common tongue. It’s like she was trying to figure out what makes him tick.

Knowing Zelda, that’s exactly what she’s doing.

Focus! He ventured a gentle pull, if just to coax some of the lost hardness back. Even under the stress, he couldn’t help how it still felt _good._ Somehow both a relief and a building need at once. Link felt sweat on the back of his knees cling the silk to him uncomfortably.

He gently passed his thumb over the head, feeling his hips cant forward into his fist. Zelda made a soft sound next to him as if he’d hurt her, and it snapped him out of his rhythm.

Oh, that’s why she hissed at him. That’s fair.

Link swallowed, shook it off, and tried to gather his focus again. He forced his arm to resume, twisting at the top and working himself in the way he’d found to be the most effective in those stolen moments alone. Link’s heartbeat drummed in his ears, and the deafening silence did nothing to dampen the lewd noises of friction and rustling sheets. Embarrassment gripped him. There’s no way she’s not hearing these sounds…

The best friend still leaned against his leg.

Maybe he could somehow redirect focus off himself. Maybe he could get another opportunity to use it on her. To watch her writhe at the end of it, to taste her as she comes, like spicy simmered fruit.

He groaned at the memory, then tamped it down. No, that’s not what the trial demands of them! Even if Zelda wants to reciprocate him, he refuses to step outside the bounds of what’s required for the trial. He’d slipped up before, but that only means that he has to redouble his efforts to keep himself in check.

“Link,” she says, interrupting his pep talk. “I… want to see.”

It’s like he magically acquired more blood, because somehow his face managed to flush while he also hardened in his hand. She bit her lip, watching him with rapt attention. Zelda looked like she wanted to take notes. Instead, she just removed the blue overshirt she wore, leaving a simple tank top behind. Her skin glistened with the beginnings of sweat.

He froze, as if she were a predator that relied solely on movement to see. If I just sit still, she’ll forget I’m here. It turns out that was definitely not the case as she moved closer, slotting the arm he’d unwisely left unguarded between her breasts. She was hugging his arm in such a way to _almost_ be innocent. If Link just turned his hand at the correct angle, he might be able to reach her…

No! Just complete the trial.

“Please?” she says into his ear.

Link shuddered and nodded. It’s hard to say no to that. He lifted his hips enough to push the Gerudo pants to his knees. The weight of her gaze increased, and Link felt himself shriveling self-consciously under her wide-eyed stare. She looked like she had just discovered a new Divine Beast. Something to tear apart and put back together.

Zelda nosed his shoulder and made a soft sound, her hand trailing down his chest while the other held his arm in place. Held in place for a reason, Link found, as her hips ground needy little circles onto the back of his wrist. Desire slammed into him. She didn’t even seem to realize she was doing it!

Any length he’d lost from his bout of self-consciousness came roiling back with a vengeance. Link chanced a glance at Zelda’s face, who was utterly focused, and ran his hand back up his thigh and onto his erection. A firewhip of arousal cracked him and he groaned. Zelda ground a little harder onto him.

Focus, knight! He closed his eyes and tried to perform X action for Y result. That’s all. Maybe this is all the trial demands of them. Just for him to find his own release, and then fully mortified, they can go home and not say a single word about it. That would be fine, right?

Maybe if he works fast enough, they’ll have to just skip over the rest of the things that constitute “reciprocation.” He could escape with at least a little bit of dignity and honor left.

That very well may have worked, but Zelda’s hand on his chest trailed lower, ticklishly, over his abdomen. It shivered under the faint brush of her fingernails and the rhythm of his hand stuttered. Link’s breathing sped up the lower she got. Is she about to…?

She was. Zelda touched him so tentatively he wondered if this was some sick fantasy. Her hand gently curled around the base, testing the girth of him, feeling it pulsate in her hand. As she raised further up him, Link’s hand was pushed out of the way and he opted to bite it instead of release the embarrassing moan that tried to escape him. Curiously, Zelda did as she saw him do: run her hand down the length, back up, gently thumb the slit at the top. Her grip wasn’t quite right and her technique was unpracticed, but still Link’s hips jolted forward as if she’d shocked him.

He gripped his own hair as Zelda released his arm and moved to kneel at his side, fully focused on her work. His hand seemed forgotten about, and she was so _close_ he could reach out and touch her and have her looking just as much a mess as him.

“Hm…” she hummed, “Give me feedback if this hurts.”

Terror swept him but before he could say anything, his breath was stolen away as she tightened her grip and increased the speed for a few strokes. She curiously ran her finger down the vein, back up, then brushed gently over the head again. _Holy Hylia!_ Link’s high, wounded whimper whistled through his teeth.

He’s so turned on, it hurts.

Zelda beamed victoriously, watching him writhe like a cricket without wings. He sucked in the breath that he’d failed to take, panting heavily like he’d never catch it. “Zelda…” he hissed out, a pained sound.

She wasn’t listening. The scholar was so enriched by the experience, exploring his body and testing a multitude of techniques. There’s no way she’d thought of all of those just now! His hand gripped her knee where she knelt over it, if just for something to anchor his soul to his body. She seems to be having a grand old time pulling pleasure out of him, noting it, then trying something else.

Zelda’s purposefully drawing this out!

Desperation breathed down his neck. If she would just stick with something, remain consistent—He wanted—No, screw this. She decidedly has too much control right now. Link’s hand adjusted underneath her, searching, and he knew he’d located his target when Zelda’s hands stuttered and stilled.

She gasped as he circled her clit with his fingers through her riding pants.

Zelda’s eyes narrowed dangerously at him and she moved to sit just out of his reach, much to Link’s displeasure. “This is about you,” she managed to remind him despite the raspiness of her voice. Throwing his words back in his face wasn’t nearly as effective as resuming her slow torment on the knight. She watched the way his sculpted thighs quivered when she did something right.

Her hand was warm from the friction. Doesn’t that hurt him? He is a proud type. Not telling her he’s in pain would be pretty classic Link. Zelda accessed her bank of knowledge about Voe anatomy, and thought perhaps, if she…

She found the bead of fluid on top, and gently slid it across the skin. Had this not been a memory with no one around, the noise he made would have guards rushing in to break up whatever violence was going on here. Zelda grinned victoriously. “Have I won the bet yet?” Zelda gloated.

Link managed to peer at her through hazy squinted eyes. “No.”

That didn’t seem to discourage her. She just shrugged confidently, as if victory was a matter of when, not a matter of if. Her hand resumed a slow, tortuous pace, pausing to collect the pearl of fluid at the top when she felt the friction growing too warm. He was so hard, pulsing in her hand, and yet the skin was incredibly soft. Zelda had never imagined that Link had any soft spots _anywhere_.

A burst of pleasure spasmed through him, and Link’s legs tried to move, but he was bound by the pants around his knees. Taking mercy on the poor soul, Zelda let go and tenderly helped him out of them one foot at a time. He seemed grateful until she used her new position to settle between his ankles.

Alarm rang in his ears and he sat up to look at her. What are you doing? He fought the urge to reach for the blankets. He couldn’t help feeling self-conscious with her staring at him, almost completely dressed, while he was bare to her. Is this what she felt like when he’d done the same thing to her? This definitely screams of Major Test of Trust.

She set her hands tenderly on his closed knees, and he understood the message: Whenever you’re ready.

He searched her eyes and was surprised at the eagerness in them but found no hint of displeasure or disgust. Steeling his nerves, he nodded and lowered one leg out straight. He allowed her to push his knee aside as she moved in closer, her hands trailing up his thighs in a way that reminded him that he will _never_ suppress this memory.

Any concept of a moment that isn’t _right now_ evaporated as her hand returned to him, gently rebuilding their rhythm until Link felt sweat sticking the sheets to his back. He was so distracted by the white-hot pleasure behind his eyes that he failed to remember that she has two hands. He tensed as she gingerly explored him, rolling each sack curiously in her palms and Link thought he might just die right then.

When it was just him, by himself, none of this care and attention was involved.

He should never have closed his eyes. Taking his eyes off of her for even a moment is a dangerous gamble. He felt warm air on his head, and Link’s eyes shot open to capture a snapshot of what may very well his unknighting: Zelda’s lips hovering just above him, wrapped in her soft hand, staring him in the eye.

She was watching him. Looking to see if he would pull away or tell her to stop. Desire swept through his vivid imagination and provided him with all the fantasies he’d forgotten or suppressed of _warm soft slick— _and was his control slipping?

It seems she got her answer because she smiled coquettishly up at him, then licked a stripe up the underside. Link’s toes curled and he clutched the sheets like he was scared he'd float away. Maybe she had been right. Maybe this was going to be too easy. This is probably going to end in a very embarrassing mess. This is going to be the hardest twenty rupees to ever pay.

Focus, knight. You can keep it together.

Zelda seemed happy with the reaction, and decided to do it again, this time pulling his head into her mouth and swirling her tongue experimentally, so, so gently that Link saw stars. He didn’t hear so much as _feel_ the moan she made at the taste of him. How did he even get here? Wasn’t he on some holy pilgrimage with the Princess of Hyrule, bound on saving the world?

How did he wind up flat on his back with the Princess sucking his soul clean out of his body?

She took a little more in, her hand working the rest of him, and Link thought he might burst into tears. “Holy fuck, _Zelda!_” he hissed, grinding his molars into powder.

Her little smug hum rippled through his length and made the soft sacks in her hand tighten. His hips spasmed, seeking _more heat more pressure more more! _But Zelda just pulled away, leaving cold wet air behind. He growled in frustration and swiped his disheveled hair from his forehead. She flicked her hair out of her way and leaned back down, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip.

He might actually start crying. She was intent on driving him absolutely crazy!

Without warning, Zelda dove forward and took as much as she could. Link cried out in surprise, vicious pleasure ratcheting pressure tighter and tighter behind his navel. She only stopped when he hit the back of her throat. She was inexperienced in maintaining her breathing, and her jaw wasn’t designed to accommodate anything of this size, and Link nearly ripped his hair out from the feeling of her gag reflex.

None of his deepest, darkest fantasies even compared. Zelda seemed daunted, but determined, and readjusted herself, perhaps a little clumsy, and tried again. He felt her envelope just _that_ much more of him, but pain quickly overtook pleasure. “Ah! Teeth! Careful with—Your teeth!” he flinched, and Zelda immediately released.

“Sorry.” Zelda swallowed, then directed all of her perseverant personality back onto her task of pulling him back in, _no teeth this time._

_I forgive you!_ Link’s silent scream was stuck in his throat, making a choked sob sound. She was a little more careful, a little more tentative, but was nothing if not a fast learner. A familiar tightness built, flitting over his eyelids just long enough to make him want it, but not long enough for him to ever get it. He knew what release felt like, but in this moment, it was only ever a memory that taunted him.

Link was so distracted that he hadn’t noticed that her hand slipped lower.

She was searching for something, pressing indistinctly along an expanse of skin that he had never paid a second thought to. It felt strange and foreign, and honestly was a workable distraction tool to get himself back under control. That is, until she increased the pressure and found what she was looking for.

Link’s spine arched and he cried out. _What was that?! _It’s like the curl-your-fingers trick, but on his very not-female body! At his reaction, Zelda swirled her tongue and pressed into the nub again, circling it.

His control slipped. A rush of heat made a sudden move, like an army rushing a fortress, and panic shot through him. “Zelda,” he says urgently, “Zelda—I…”

Link didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence as she pulled away and let it fall to rest on top of his belly. The air felt so cold, he thought for a moment he was back in Hebra. All urgency was replaced with frustration as his untended need regrouped back inside him. _That was close!_ Link tried to catch his breath, but it was stolen again as her finger pressed into that spot again. How did she even know that was there?

Zelda stared down at him, looking proud of herself. Link just glared back at her.

Suddenly, Zelda’s hand was in front of his mouth. Confused and frustrated, he cocked a brow at her. “Suck,” she commanded, leaving no room for argument. Link wasn’t sure why she’d want him to do that, but he was loath to deny her anything at this point. You want me to cut off my hand? No problem. Please, just give me something!

He pulled the digit into his mouth, the musk and sweat of him on his tongue. The bed shook as Zelda quivered while he worked the finger and allowed her to add another. He tasted her skin, and with nothing else touching him, he was starved for anything Zelda, _anywhere! _Her soft moan at the feel of his tongue is what kept him from entering the astral plane.

The fingers swiftly withdrew, and Link realized too late that she’d returned to lavish licks onto his member again. He was wound so tight, just bordering on the precipice of overstimulation that had driven Zelda into despair the previous night. That’s when he understood: She’s recreating her own feeling of desperation, just in him.

He can’t tell if that’s fair or cruel because he can’t think anything while she sucked lightly, dipping her tongue into the slit and Link is probably going to die right now.

That’s when he feels her slicked fingers exploring lower, spreading wetness around a place he himself hadn’t ever touched, let alone anyone else! "Whoa! Zelda-- what." He stuttered, rendered simple by the alien feeling. They'd danced around the topic before, and some distant part of him knew that's what the trial demanded, but he still lagged behind real-time when it came to the fact that any of this was happening at all. Let alone _that_ particular milestone!

At his tension, she stilled, mouth full, and stared into his eyes. Link’s brain was overloaded with information to the point he didn’t know what to make of this. He’d almost forgotten about that part of the “reciprocity” theory.

Gently, she pulled off of him, but her fingers remained still. Zelda didn't break eye-contact as she watched Link's eyes' broadcast: Terror, curiosity, perturbation, and curiosity again. She was watching him, looking to see if he would balk or demand she stop. Waiting for a green light. She offered him a nonthreatening smile, "Major Test of Trust, Link."

That's an understatement.

Link was doing his best to make a decision, which is no small feat when his entire body is shrieking in his ears for release. His pulse was deafening. Her index finger was a telephone wire transmitting her thoughts directly into him. Zelda trailed a circle, so so gently around his rim.

Embarrassment colored his face at the involuntary shiver she wrought from him.

When he didn’t ask her not to, she circled him again and rewarded good behavior with a long stroke up his length. Her fingers increased pressure, soft, insistent, then backed out and repeated. He never could focus on the strange, foreign feeling for long, because Zelda’s lips lowered back onto him, moving just a little quicker. She parried his moan with her own.

Her thumb arched to that spot behind his balls again and _pressed. _That pressure building in him was back, grilling him alive from the inside out. Link felt completely powerless and despite that, he diligently clung to any foothold of control he could get. It’s like slipping down moss-covered stairs.

Zelda had entered him to the first knuckle before he’d even recognized it. She was playing him like an instrument, which probably makes her a natural virtuoso. She was suspiciously talented, in fact. So much, that a question burned in his mind. “Have you… done this before?” he panted.

She pulled off of him with a lewd pop. A thin web of saliva connected her lips to him like a thread of fate. “Mm?” She had to clear her throat to speak. “No, I haven’t.” She seemed flattered by the sideways compliment. “You saw my notes, remember?”

Link had forgotten the language for a moment and meaning caught up with him later. Right! That book under her bed. That explains some things.

She stroked him lazily, her finger pressing gently into him in a way that, much to his surprise, wasn’t unpleasant. Even though he had literally masqueraded as the opposite sex, Link felt that this moment was a far greater test of his masculinity. She lightly trailed her free fingers around the rim, almost ticklish, while her thumb continued to apply steady pressure to some unseen spot inside him.

Zelda had really done her research.

Her second knuckle worked back and forth at a steady, easy pace. With this advantage, she could tell exactly when he was approaching the edge, and then would leave his dick completely untouched on his belly. When she deemed him recollected, she’d start up again. Sweat stuck the sheets to every inch of his skin; his hair was matted; frustration clanged angrily in his belly like a wrench in a music box. Is this really what Zelda was experiencing? This is the sort of pain she tried to work herself out of?

He’s strong, but he’s only mortal.

“Zelda…” he whines a keening, wounded sound. _Be nice._

The princess pulls her head away, stroking him slowly. Her hand rocked languidly back and forth into him, drawing long shivers all the way down his spine. Grinding, teasing, not nearly fast enough.

“Turnabout is fair play, knight.”

Link tried to narrow his eyes menacingly at her, but she pushed her finger back into him with just _that_ much force, her hand worked just _that_ much faster on his length. Zelda’s academic lust sought after something inside him, searching, turning her finger until—

“Ah!” he cried, pleasure seizing his muscles and lights flashed unseen in the dark room. She seemed to sense that he was close and stilled her motions while he caught his breath. What had she just found?! And why does everything taste like voltfruits? Curious, Zelda gently pushed back into him, finger hitting that spot again. It was like she’d stabbed him with a lighting-blade.

“…Pain?” she asks.

Link’s eyes rolled forward again. In the tiny space between full-body shudders, he managed to grind out, “No.”

So, good, then? Zelda did it again, this time applying a little more pressure, and felt him tighten in spasms around her finger. She knew that she was driving him all the way to the edge then reeling him back again, over and over. When the knight clenched his teeth and evened out his breathing, she gently took him back into her mouth, just holding him, and tentatively added a second finger. Link shivered, hips wriggling under her like he wanted more of _something_ but couldn’t name what. The slim, elegant fingers withdrew from him all the way, then pressed all the way back in, angled to hit that same spot inside him again. The pitiful sound he made went straight to her ego.

He held steadfast to his control.

The durability of the saliva was not unending. Zelda knew she’d have to do something else to make sure not to hurt him. Gently, so gently, she withdrew and left him feeling empty in her wake. Dizzily, he tried to watch her as she lay prone across the bed to rummage through the dresser drawer. “Wha… Hng!” She returned and gently lent him a few strokes, just to keep him where he was, and snapped the cap of an elixir she’d acquired.

Link barely opened his eyes long enough to see Zelda pouring something onto her fingers. He was about to ask, when those fingers returned to him, working him with the slick fluid gliding her skin against his in a way that had him trembling. “Whoa…” he breathed. Not much longer of this, and maybe he could commune with the Goddesses himself and ask them just exactly what kind of nonsense they were trying to pull with these trials.

He's completely in control.

Zelda had never seen him off-guard. Ever-ready for a fight, always intimidating in his shrewd stare, attentive to the slightest sound, intuitive to even the faintest hint of danger. Right now, Ganon himself could come busting down the door, and Link would sparsely notice. Zelda couldn’t help the pride she felt at reducing him to his helpless state.

She left his oversensitive, throbbing length alone and took the moment of rest to roll her shoulders and stretch her neck. It was like she was settling in for a long night of studying which, strictly speaking, wasn’t _not_ what’s happening here. While she stretched her jaw muscles, her fingers never remained perfectly still, always gliding this way and that, never letting him come all the way back down.

There’s no way this is a fair exchange!

Frustration burned a hole in his stomach. Everything was over-stimulated, and the pain fought for space with the pleasure in his brain. He glowered at her as she knelt before him, watching him writhe in agony at the end of her arm. Zelda just smiled back and curled her fingers, stealing the breath he was going to use to tell her in no unclear terms how unhappy he was with this.

Evil! She wore this superior little grin and watched in victory as yet another bead of liquid pulsed from his head and onto his abdomen.

Link’s hands fisted the sheets.

Zelda’s chipping away at his self-control, piece by piece. She knows what she’s doing to him, and is wielding her power to break him down to the sum of his parts.

She literally has him wrapped around her finger.

Link could take no more.

He sat up on his elbows, stared straight into her eyes, and baked her under his gaze. Far gone was any hint of wanting, now replaced by need and hunger. “Zelda…” he warned, teeth glinting lupine in the darkness, “You’re being _exceptionally_ unkind.”

For a split moment, she thought that he may wheel around to attack her, so intimidating was his unblinking stare. Her surprise wore off the longer she met his gaze.

Their beating hearts synchronized.

This is the point where Link had shown her kindness. Where he nodded and surged forward with an unexpected passion and finesse with all intents of pleasing her. Zelda felt heat roiling inside her at the idea of returning the favor, of giving him what he’d given her. To watch all hint of stoicism fall away.

Would he become more talkative, or would he be reduced to a mess of whimpers? Would he say her name, or curse so nastily that Hylia would revoke her blessing?

His eyes pleaded, _just pick one._

Unfortunately for Link, Zelda’s not him. She’s not kind. Her smile cut Cheshire lines around her eyes and she pressed back into him, all the way to her knuckles, and reveled at how the tendons in his neck flared and his head rolled back.

_So easy._

It was all too much! He’d told her in no unclear terms that he was at his limit. Wasn’t she supposed to be paying back his kindness? This is anything but kindness. She was so smug in her complete and utter control over him; She lazily trailed her free hand up his ribs and tweaked his nipple. Link felt like he was locked in stasis, getting pummeled over and over again and as soon as time resumed, his bones would fly in all different directions.

_Huh. _That’s an idea.

“Zelda…” he rumbled.

_This is your last warning._

The princess stared down at him, expression cocksure and arrogant. She seemed to believe that she had complete, uninterrupted control over him. To the extent that he had control over himself, she did.

But Link was losing control of himself.

And Zelda’s about to find that out.


	23. Leave It Alone

~*~*~*~*~*~

Zelda called his raise. Her eyes narrowed, a challenge: _What are you going to do about it?_

The fingers inside him pressed against that spot again, firm, insistent, drawing cute little hearts. _You’re not gonna do a damn thing about it, Hero_. She watched sweat roll off his brow and his chest heave as he fought some unseen force to stay in control.

The pleasure hit him, and something snapped.

That’s it.

With the precision of a hunter, Link flashed forward and stole the Sheikah slate from its holster on her hip. The sudden movement surprised her, stilling her movements just long enough for him to activate the Stasis rune and stop her before she decided to bring him to heel again. Chains of time wrapped around her as she stared back with her surprised, golden face. Link removed himself from her grasp and pushed her so that when time resumed, she would fall hard onto the mattress on her back. Unlike Zelda, he actually had some practice when it comes to how much force it takes to make the Stasis rune work without causing too much damage. He only had a few seconds left, and he used them to grip her tank top and pull it apart down the center.

Time resumed all at once, and the chains disappeared.

Shocked, Zelda was suddenly thrown on her back, and the sound of fabric ripping cut through the sounds of their breathing. Her top was split down the middle, leaving her uninjured and exposed. She hadn’t even had the chance to realize what just happened before Link grabbed her by the wrists and used his full strength to hold them above her head.

Any trace of smug superiority was gone as she stared up into his eyes.

_His eyes in the hot spring._

He leaned down to press a heated kiss to her lips, free hand trailblazing up her ribs and towards her breast. Link’s knee pressed between hers, grinding his thigh against her core. He greedily swallowed her moan whole as the violent tremors shook her and she involuntarily writhed against him.

_Got you._

Unknown eons passed by in their furious clash of lips and tongue. It was rough, unrefined, teeth clacking and warring tongues battling for dominance in each other’s throats. A very, very far cry from Link’s stoic chivalry or Zelda’s dignified tact. His free hand fisted her hair, pulling her impossibly closer, and the other finally released her arms in favor of cupping her breast. The extension of trust was rewarded with her nails scratching brutal lines down his back.

“That was a dirty trick,” she scolded, then bit his lip.

He growled in pain, which somehow only made him want her more. Link roughly ground his hips down onto hers, promising retribution.

_Her taste her hands her hair her moans her smile her wetness her—_

Link’s leg pressed forward against her a little harder where she most needed the pressure and she moaned. Even through her clothes, he could feel her slick his skin. Without warning, he released her, threw the slate far out of her reach, and began work on unbuttoning her riding pants. Zelda was just as hurried, lifting her hips and kicking her feet free when he pulled the cursed leg-traps off of her.

Zelda had been next to bare in front of him before, but something about her laid out for him in this exact moment, panting, eyes dilated with want, paled all others in comparison.

Virulent voices of virility roared in his ears, provided him with caveman-level blueprints of what he wanted to do to her. How much he wanted to take her. There must have been some unseen ambassador coordinating correspondence between the animalistic and the passionate, because Link did none of those things.

He grabbed the best friend at her side and switched it on.

Link’s hand enclosed her, slammed with the feeling of _warm and slick_ so hard that it was a mystery why he wasn’t _inside her at this very instant!_ Instead, his fingers pushed into her, feeling no hint of resistance, and immediately let muscle-memory do the work of unravelling her. Zelda’s neck arched as if possessed. They both had the idea to sear the other with a savage kiss at the same time.

The result was that they’d be bruised and battered and kiss-swollen and neither of them minded in the slightest because _Link’s fingers curled_ and Zelda’s legs trembled and wait what was he doing with that device?

He rested it heavily on top of her hip; Equal parts threat and promise. He continued unfolding her at an unyielding pace, but suddenly pulled back from their kiss as he hugged the device to the curve of her mound. Zelda’s face contorted at the vibration as he gently slid it down her slit, wetting it, humming so close to where she needed it most.

Finally, he pressed it against her lips, pushing until she spasmed and the buzzing sound altered in pitch. Zelda thought she was ascending into the spirit realm. “Ah- _fuck_! Link!”

Her hips levitated off the mattress and into his hand, thighs quivered with the feeling of _yes there keep doing that so close—_

Link felt her clench around his fingers, then violently push them out with a throaty cry. Fluid rushed forward, heady and far more intoxicating than any noble pursuit. It darkened the sheets, but neither of them cared. They were a lewd, dark tangle of persons, mercifully stripped of any destiny or duty or status. Even though he’d wrought release from her, she still wanted _more, more! _Her nails dug crescent moons into his shoulders, into his hips, anywhere she could sink her claws in, as if she were scared that he’d slip away.

Instinct or intuition or the look in her eye managed to get the message through his thick skull. Swiftly, he removed his fingers from her, and traded them out for the best friend pushing into her insistently. Her body yielded, accommodating, as he angled it right and thrust one, five, seven times until she felt another building wave of pleasure. His other hand circled her clit, having to remind himself not to be nearly as rough as he wanted to be.

The device had gotten her there; his fingers had done the job. Yet still she wanted something (something) and she couldn’t name exactly what (what) without the proper use of her braincells. With a leonine snarl, Zelda planted both heels into his hips and kicked him away.

Stunned, he fell back against the plush headboard and pillows, staring up at her as she loomed menacingly over him.

Zelda held the best friend in her hand.

_Your turn._

Link’s nostrils flared, staring down an enemy he wanted to be defeated by. Zelda hooked her arm under his knee and put it over her shoulder. She wanted to keep him on his back, struggling against the onslaught of pleasure. She stroked him gently, thumbed the head, distracted him in so many ways, but his eyes still shot open at the best friend pressing against him.

Vibrations coursed through him, millions of little bees without stingers in his veins. Is this what she experienced, but in female form? She gently pulled him into her mouth, pressing the device firmly, patiently. With his leg over her shoulder, she needn’t use any force whatsoever. Link shivered, and whatever blind animalism in his mind found that it had met its match in Zelda.

She didn’t shy from his stare. Didn’t balk at his intensity. She doubled it.

Zelda bit his inner thigh, then lavished apology kisses to the mark. Everything was so, so slick, gliding in a strange dreamworld without friction holding anything in place. Zelda pressed the vibrating friend in smoothly and pulled back to watch the fireworks on Link’s face.

“Holy—Zelda, I…” he swallowed, completely overwhelmed. He couldn’t see an inch in front of his face.

Zelda dropped his thigh and he groaned at the sudden shift. “Sit up.”

Jetlagged just behind reality, it took Link a moment to realize that she’d said words from where he’s supposed to be kissing. “Huh?’ The consistent hum of the device was deafening; It resonated all the way up to his throat. Zelda helped by pulling him up by the arm, which was enough gesture for him to get her meaning.

When he understood her purpose, desire coiled even tighter inside him.

She had that devious, impatient, haughty, royal look in her eye. Sitting up required moving, and the added pressure pressed the friend deeper inside to the point it hurt a little, but he couldn’t even pause to consider that because Zelda’s straddling him and when did he put his hands on her hips?

Zelda gyrated in wide, tortuous circles, spreading slickness and heat and _wow_ that is a lot for Link to take at once! She swallowed his heady, needy moan with a kiss that wrapped her arms around his neck. His hips jolted up to meet hers, which triggered a domino reaction that she couldn’t see, but she could definitely feel and hear.

All this from the guy too knightly to share a tent with her.

A tense sound got caught in his chest from all of the tantric inputs and Link’s head rolled back. He couldn’t withstand all of this; He was bound to break, to give in to release. Zelda’s hot breath fanned into his ear, making him shiver, “Don’t you dare.”

She gripped the base of him, hard, stopping the oncoming release before it could make its way through him. Link let out a strangled cry at the burgeoning _ache_ and the pain. He didn’t even know it was possible to do that! “Ah! _Fuck!”_ he hissed.

“Not yet,” she commanded. “I know you can do it.” Without releasing the base of him, she lifted her hips and angled him just right. Link clawed at the sheets, given a full view of her moonlit body slowly sinking down on him, her head thrown back and breasts heaving. They both moaned at the sensation of her stretching around him.

Zelda could feel the vibrations of their best friend through Link.

Both were too desperate to savor this moment. It felt _so good_. Link was rendered still, simply because making any movement would jostle him and he is not one to disobey direct orders like that. However, Zelda adjusted quickly, lifting with her knees and using hands on his chest for leverage. Sweat glued them together, and their lips locked again, and Zelda couldn’t tell who stole whose breath away or where one of them ended and the other began.

Link’s hands tightened on her hips, and they moved in a frenzied synchronicity; Her downs meeting his ups. Zelda couldn’t take much more, and when his hand moved to the juncture of their hips to give her one last bit of help, it was like he javelined her from a cliff.

Pleasure crashed through her, tearing her orgasm from her in the way a tree would be uprooted by the wind. The fluttering of her pleasure pulled him down off the cliff right after and he came with a long groan.

Panting and sweat-slick, Zelda fell forward onto Link’s heaving chest, and he leaned back onto the plush headboard, hand holding his damp bangs off his forehead. As it turns out, the answer is yes, you can in fact die in an afterlife. Link’s certain he just saw the faces of the Goddesses.

He’d never experienced this feeling of… _afterglow._

It’s a distinctly different feeling than that of just relief.

“Wow…” said one of them, neither knew whom.

Some very distant part of his brain complained that their friend was still pulsing, that they were completely caked in fluids, but he distinctly didn’t care about it. He didn’t possess a single care or concern at all. He felt himself slip out of her with a shiver, and Zelda collapsed at his side, arm flung lazily across his abdomen.

Link winced as he shut off the device and left it sticking to his thigh. It could very well have been an eternity that they basked in bliss, catching their breaths, minds swimming in warm oceans with no sky or horizon. It’s like he hadn’t been able to see an entire part of the color spectrum, and now his world was completely new and fresh.

Zelda nuzzled into the crook of her arm with a lazy little hum of pleasure and toyed deliriously with the hairs on his chest. Her leg stole one of his to use as a body pillow.

When was the last time he’d even received a hug?

Even overheated and sweat-stuck, Link felt a warmth in a place he hadn’t in a very, very long time. Like slipping into a hot spring after weeks of sleeping in the snow. It was so foreign, he thought he may be imagining it, or perhaps it’s a side-effect of this experience. Link didn’t know, and he was far too tired to care. However, rest evaded him as something creeped up in his mind.

He’d just bedded the Princess of Hyrule.

The realization hit him over the head at once. In his clouded post-coital mind thoughts rumbled indistinctly like thunder. What had he just done? What happened to his control? Has he just disqualified their blessings from the Goddesses? What does any of this mean?

“Leave it alone, Link,” says the sleepy voice on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat in her ear transmitting morse code SOS signals. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”


	24. Trashed

~*~*~*~*~*~

The smell of the pillow lured him out of sleep. It smelled like Zelda’s hair, and the deep breath he pulled in shrugged off the last vestiges of his dream. The bed was warm, but he still felt cold as his hand searched for skin and found none.

Link sat up and blearily took in the room. He was alone. The knight stretched out to wake his limbs, and his leg touched a wet spot. _Glad I didn’t sleep in that_. It all felt like he’d awoken from a vivid erotic dream.

The fact that he was sore reminded him in no unclear terms that it wasn’t.

All of the events of the previous night assaulted him.

_Her moans, the stasis rune, her top ripping, ‘Major Test of Trust, Link,’ her leonine snarl, Zelda staring at him with lips on his head, millions of bees without stingers, ‘That was a dirty trick,’ her stretching around him--_

Pangs of dread and arousal stabbed his stomach at the same time.

Link’s heart galloped so hard he felt the hooves kicking his chest. What had he done? How could he have bedded the Princess of Hyrule? Just for some trial? He didn’t think he was intoxicated by the Noble Pursuit. What could possibly have stolen the knight’s self-control from him?

_You’re not gonna do a damn thing about it, Hero._

_Cute little hearts._

Oh, that’s what. Link dug his fingers into his disheveled hair and leaned back against the headboard. His mouth tasted funny. The bed smelled like stale lovemaking and he didn’t know if he was repulsed or attracted to it. He’s sticky. What is that?

Link realized all at once what his sleep-addled brain was shrieking about.

_Don’t you dare. Not yet. I know you can do it._

Oh no. Oh, no, no. Link has royally fucked up in the most literal sense. Why didn’t he even think to object? Why didn’t he push her off? Why didn’t—_What an idiot! _That isn’t what the trial called for! It’s supposed to be a test of trust, not a test of tryst!

Link was about knee-deep in this panic attack when the door opened.

Zelda paused, sensing the anxiety in the room the way she would sense walking face-first into a door. Link stared at her like she was a bear. She was dressed in a simple Hylian tank top and floral Gerudo pants. She was clean. Her hands were full: A torch, and her best friend.

_Their_ best friend.

Link winced at the topaz glinting back at him and looked everywhere but at Zelda. Maybe the memories and the dread will go away if he just doesn’t see her.

“Um… good morning?” Zelda realized what was in her hand, and demurely held it behind her thigh. She lit the nearest torch with the one she carried, much to Link’s developing displeasure. He’d prefer not to see his wretched state in perfect clarity, thank you. Zelda tentatively set the device on the nightstand.

Zelda didn’t say anything, and Link didn’t say anything about her not saying anything.

Against his better judgement, his eye followed to the refracted firelights on the dresser. The device was pristine.

“You… cleaned it.”

Zelda fidgeted with the soft blankets. “I was just returning the favor.”

“Thanks.” Which translates roughly to, _Well, that’s mortifying. _

Link cleared his throat and pulled the covers higher. Zelda lingered at the bedside, not sure whether to make herself scarce or… or something that isn’t that.

The silence was suffocating.

Zelda wanted this to be over with, so she sighed and sat on the edge of the bed so she wouldn’t have to see his bare chest and all the muscles attached to it. “You didn’t tell me you liked my new pants,” Zelda scolded.

Link snorted and didn’t stare at the back of her head. Even the knight attendant knew it was a plea for him to say something, anything. “I like your pants.” 

She passed him a treaty smile. It was a start.

“So, um—”

“I—” They’d both spoken at the same time. Link offered, “Go ahead.”

Zelda shook her hair everywhere. “No, you first.”

Link ground his molars and rubbed the back of his neck. What was he supposed to say?

_I bedded the Princess of Hyrule and I’m pretty sure the Goddess is going to smite me?_

_Do you feel used? Do you hate me? _

_Did we pass the trial?_

_Someone should wash these sheets?_

Finally, he decided on saying none of those things. Instead, he clenched his fist and forced himself to admit, “I… lost control. I take full responsibility, and I’ll do what it takes to make this right.”

She wanted to break the tension, so she smiled at him ironically, “I was there, too, Link.” Her dry humor fell on stern ears and he cut a glare at her. Zelda softened her approach, “Link… I’m not too proud to admit I had fun. It’s disheartening to see you berate yourself over a good thing.”

Link squinted, confused. Looks like they were talking about two different things.

“What?” He shook his head, as if catching up. “No, no, not that.” Well, also that, but that’s not what he meant. “I, um. At the end…” If there’s a tactful way to put this, he’s grasping at it. “We did something reckless.”

Zelda watched his eyes flick down to her belly, then back up. The way he grit his teeth signaled he was ready to flee or fight— whether from himself or an external threat, she wasn’t sure. Understanding resonated in her eyes.

_Don’t you dare. The fireworks on his face. His needy cries._

Zelda cleared her throat and shook off the intrusive images. “Oh. I see.” So, this discussion was going to start _there,_ then. The tension was heavy, but not for the reason Link thought. “I don’t… think that’s something we should worry about.”

Link looked like she’d just killed his horse. _What do you mean don’t worry about it?!_

The way Link’s face drained of all color indicated he’d grossly misunderstood her implication. Zelda stared back at him dryly, “Link, do you know that the electric current in voltfruit juice stuns virility in Hylian males?” It can also render Zora Voe impotent, but she decided not to include that little fun fact.

Link stared at her dumbly. “What?”

“I suppose I should have led with that.”

“Maybe.” Yeah, no shit.

They broke eye contact when Link finally released the breath that he held. He mouthed a silent prayer of thanks at the stucco ceiling. Okay, so, at least they’d overcome that obstacle. Link snorted and willed his hands to stop shaking, which worked until an off-course thought hit him. It all seems a little too convenient…

Voltfruit juice. The Noble Pursuit.

“Wait… did you _plan_ all of that?”

Zelda stared back, confused, until meaning began to settle in. “Plan? As in…” She was suddenly preoccupied with the ends of her hair. _Guilty. _She stuttered, “Well, no, not necessarily. I, uhm, well, I was concerned that the trials—It seemed that we were being pushed in that direction. Especially since my theory was correct. And…” you’re staring at me really hard, “And, well, I didn’t know what would happen. I thought it may be a good call, you know, just in case…”

Link’s suspicious face twitched in a way Zelda couldn’t read.

Zelda tentatively met his eye contact. “I… can’t tell what answer you were hoping for.”

Neither does he. Should she really have informed him of the side effects of what he consumed? Or had she really expected him to already know that bit of information? If he'd known, he might have taken the gesture of making the Noble Pursuit to be more suggestive than she'd intended. It seemed that she was just having fun following a recipe. Zelda couldn't fake that, right? Maybe the side effects were just an added bonus.

Link shook his head and placed it in the palm of his hand. She’s right: It doesn’t really matter now. He’s grateful that someone had at least taken a precaution. Link’s never going to hear the end of how stupid he is from himself, but at least the worst of the consequences were abated.

They sat in silence, just processing this moment.

The Hero and Princess had gone above what they thought the trial demanded of them. It was an act of passion committed purely of their own corporeal desires. Zelda had anticipated it getting out of hand was a possibility before Link did. Link had violated his knight’s code. He’d forgotten that he was the Hero of Hyrule, even if this was all supposedly done in the name of fulfilling that destiny.

Zelda broke the silence, “Do you think we passed the trial?”

Only one way to find out.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The throne room was trashed.

No longer were the fine tapestries hung from the ceilings but were torn down and knotted into a nest in the center of the floor. Deep claw marks left scars on the walls in sets of four. Potted cacti lay next to their shattered containers, dirt spread in a wide circle all around them. The intricate woven runner that led to the throne was askew and had fallen partway into the fountains. Stuffing from the throne cushions was littered like confetti.

But neither of them paid attention to any of it.

A massive creature stood on its hind legs and pawed at the shiny bauble of a statue’s necklace. Its ears swiveled upon their approach and it stopped its games in favor of staring at them with wide-blown pupils.

It was huge! The creature made a sound, but far gone was that curious pigeon-meow. It made a low chuffing noise and Link’s mind immediately set off raid sirens: _Lynel!_ The Kittee returned to four paws and turned towards them, long golden tail twitching low behind it. Under the weight of its focused, tigrine stare, both Hylians were made profoundly aware of the fact that they are made of meat and sustenance and prey items. Its giant paws flexed.

Link pushed Zelda behind him and assumed a battle stance.

“Kittee?” says Zelda’s voice. The creature cocked its head. “Link… There’s no evidence that indicates we’re supposed to fight it.” She knew that he’d heard her by the way his ear shifted the slightest bit, but he did not respond. Hylian and creature stared each other down. Even with its head held naturally at its shoulder-height, it still stood as tall as Link. Its golden whiskers twitched.

The words glowed on the throne: _A Major Test of Trust._

After a moment of no one moving, Zelda gently set her hand on Link’s shoulder so as not to startle him. Wordlessly, she moved around him and communicated with her eyes: _Trust me._ Link visibly resisted the urge to push her back behind him while she took a tentative step towards the anxious bulk of muscle and claws.

“I see you’ve kept yourself busy while we were away,” she spoke affectionately. “Are you still as kind-hearted as when I last saw you?”

The Kittee’s chest rumbled a sound neither of them had ever heard, and Zelda wasn’t sure if it was an answer or a threat or both.

“I bet we are making you nervous with our nervousness,” Zelda offered, braving another step towards the creature. She stretched her hand out just as she had in the memory of her castle bedroom. Its eyes narrowed, and Link nearly flung himself into the space between them when it stalked forward. He was glad he restrained himself because the creature sniffed Zelda’s hand, then rubbed its cheek against it.

It wanted chin scratches, and Zelda happily obliged.

Both exhaled a sigh of relief. It’s dangerous, but it isn’t hostile.

“That’s a sweet creature,” Zelda cooed. Its face pressed into her chest affectionately, that chuffing noise rumbling every exhale. _It’s too big to purr now, _Zelda realized. She scratched behind the creature’s ears as it marked her collarbones; The creature’s face was easily the size of her torso. Link tried not to think about whether it could get its jaws all the way around her head. Zelda looked over her shoulder at him, her stance wide so as to not be knocked over the way she would brace against Epona scratching her nose on her belt. “Link, I think my theory was correct.”

Link nodded.

It certainly appears that way.

Cautiously, Link approached the creature, which seemed to increase its anxiety, until he offered the same hand gesture and allowed it to sniff him. “It isn’t quite as big as a horse, but it may be strong enough to carry us to Vah Naboris.”

Zelda appraised the creature while it groomed the side of Link’s head with its tongue (much to Link’s visible discomfort). Its muscles were bunched and compacted, and every movement it made was silent. It seemed far more predatory than a horse, and its ability to leap from platform to platform insinuated more agility than any creature they’ve seen before.

“It may be able to carry one of us up at a time,” Zelda inferred. “However, all of the previous trials have been completed at the same time.” Well, with the exception of one.

Link pressed his open palm to the Kittee’s face, giving it something to lick that wasn’t his now-disheveled hair. Its rough tongue was bigger than his hand. “We completed the last trial when it led us to where we were supposed to go. Maybe we just need to wait for it to ask us to follow.”

“Uh-huh,” hummed Zelda, her face behind the slate. It made a mechanical snapping sound as it captured a picture of the Kittee mid-lick in his palm and Link’s deadpan stare at the camera.

“Princess.”

“Sorry,” she giggled. She couldn’t help it. There’s no avoiding that it’s kinda cute. He heard her save the image and then answer him more fully. “There’s not much more that we could… accomplish here,” she said tactfully. “Even still, I can’t figure out why we were able to move on from the last trial when by all appearances, we hadn’t gone through your memories completely. The Kittee shrank, then grew, then led us here. It doesn’t make sense."

Does that mean they have to backtrack somehow? That’s not exactly possible. There’s no un-doing what they’ve done.

Kittee deemed Link thoroughly groomed and flopped on its side to lick its paws. It completely blocked the path to the destroyed throne.

Link wiped his hand on his (fresh) Gerudo pants, unhappy with the non-absorbent silk. They exchanged a glance, then watched the creature happily groom itself, then roll around on the makeshift bed of expensive tapestries. If it could take them to Vah Naboris, it definitely didn’t seem in a rush to do so.

Zelda sighed and sat on a step. “I suppose all we can do at this point is wait.”

Link rubbed the back of his neck and didn’t look at her. Why does that idea sound so deeply unappealing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind words and feedback! I always get a rush when I see a new comment or Kudos. You're the best readers an author could ever ask for (:
> 
> Also, fun fact: I actually did a bit of research and found out that electricity does actually hinder human sperm motility even in very low voltages. The more you know!


	25. And Then Some

~*~*~*~*~*~

“This isn’t working,” Zelda finally said.

Sure, time didn’t technically move here, but they sure had waited for a long time. Zelda checked the slate if just for the habit of looking at it. Still 5:48 PM -39*F. The Kittee was curled into a ball on its makeshift nest, happily dozing while the two Hylians sat in agonized silence.

Their Hylian clothes were hung to dry. Empty dishware from their meal was left haphazardly around them. Even the ever-dutiful Link decided he just didn’t care about that right now. He sat with his back against a statue of a fearsome Gerudo warrior and stared straight up into her hollow eyes. She stared back, uncaring and unhelpful.

They could hear the Gerudo theme playing from the music box in the distance. It started over, this time without the clanging sound. Zelda had fixed it.

“Maybe we should approach Vah Naboris and see if the Kittee will behave different.”

Zelda’s nose curled at the idea. In the corner of his eye Link saw her writhe uncomfortably. She was reclined back on the Kittee, staring at the ceiling. “The idea of a long walk at this point sounds like a miserable affair,” she muttered quietly under her breath. Zelda probably didn’t intend for Link to hear it, but still he turned to look at her.

She seemed even more uncomfortable under his stare. He waited for her to explain, and she grimaced at the heat in her ears. “I’m sore,” she admitted. Zelda didn’t miss the way Link snorted and held his arms a little closer to himself. “I… get the sense that I’m not the only one.”

Link’s face darkened and instead of answering her not-question, he said, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

_So endearing._

Zelda smiled back at him and shook her head. “No. Did I hurt you?”

Well, he was in pain, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she hurt him. It was probably equal to what she was experiencing, if he had to guess. Link purposefully walled off his consciousness from the memories trying to assail him. “No.”

Silence settled between them, thick but hospitable.

They could travel to Vah Naboris, but the trek would be long, and Zelda just has an intuitive sense that it isn’t the correct answer. The Kittee had grabbed her by the hand and led them to the next trial when (for whatever reason) it had deemed their efforts sufficient. There are too many parallels for the entire premise to be different.

The thought that had nagged her all along finally resurfaced to the front of her mind.

“What if… last night wasn’t enough?”

Confusion twisted Link’s face. Even for someone as stoic as the knight, it was fairly plain what he was thinking.

“I know. There isn’t a whole lot of room for upward progression.” Link swallowed. Under any other circumstance, he would be impressed at her dignified way of expressing that. He suppressed another wave of lewd and unwanted images coursing through his mind. “I’m not sure why that wouldn’t qualify as a Major Test of Trust. But seeing as how Kittee has grown so much… It must mean we’re on the right path.”

Link had just barely begun to wrap his mind around what happened, and now she’s insinuating that it may need to happen _again_?

He rubbed the back of his head bashfully and looked anywhere but at her. What could he possibly say to that? Zelda watched his reaction the way she’d watch a set of gears. A little glimmer of something appeared in her eye. “That’s the face of a man who’s having creative ideas,” she smirked, openly amused at the horror on his face.

“Zelda…” he complained.

She was clearly just trying to get a reaction out of him, and it worked. Like a Kittee knocking over a potted plant just to watch it fall. Zelda laughed quietly to herself and Link facepalmed. “Still though…” she murmured, a little more serious now, “Not knowing what the trials are bent on accomplishing by having us complete them is deeply frustrating. If we knew what the goal was, we could accomplish it much faster.”

Why did Link get a bad feeling about that?

After a long moment of her considering her own words, Link finally hedged. “What are you getting at?”

Zelda pursed her lips. Clearly, she had an idea, but she didn’t seem to like it. In fact, she disliked it so much that she shook her head and decided not to say it. Link gave her a look that she withered under. “Zelda. You clearly have an idea. Just tell me and we’ll decide together if it’s a good one.”

Those were Zelda’s words said back at her.

With a sigh, Zelda steeled herself. “Well, I can’t help thinking about what you said about Mipha, and what Mipha was trying to tell me at Lanayru Gate. Assuming that it’s true that she enhances her powers by loving you, I can’t help thinking…”

Understanding settled in Link’s throat. Can’t help thinking that they’re trapped here until they fall in love? That’s definitely a tall order.

Zelda winced at the look on his face. They’d brought up the idea before, but it hadn’t seemed as credible at the time. “That said, why do Urbosa, Revali, and Daruk wield powers without love for you?” She put her chin in her hand, staring at Link like a collection of parts. “Wait, are any of them in love with _anyone_?”

Link shook his head and shrugged. Not that he knew of.

Visibly frustrated, Zelda leaned her head back onto the soft fur of the sleeping Kittee. It seemed to find that just the slightest bit uncomfortable and softly bunny-kicked her in its sleep. “It just doesn’t make sense…” An idea occurred to her and she stretched her hand out at him placatingly. “It’s not that I’m repulsed by the idea, Link. I hope you don’t think that. It’s just…”

Link swallowed again, even if it didn’t move the lump. He thinks he understands what she’s going through: Not adamantly opposed but feeling pressured. “It isn’t something you can consciously make happen.” What he really said was _it’s not something anyone can make happen, myself included._

A soft sound escaped her. That's an understatement. Zelda doesn't even love herself, let alone anyone else. What would that even look like?

The princess squished her cheek as she rested it on her hand, a miserable gesture. "If last night didn't make us magically infatuated with each other, I suspect that nothing will." She's only half-kidding.

Link could taste his own squeamishness with the subject. He felt _something, _but the L-word wasn't something he could capitalize with confidence. Pressure from being her knight and pressure as the Hero and pressure from the trials all coalesced into a nebulous bog. The feeling of forgetting about all of that for a brief time can easily be disguised as love. Passion and pleasure were their own animals, neither of which he was equipped to take on.

At his confliction, Zelda eyed him curiously. Her quirked eyebrow indicated playfulness, even if she was serious. "Unless... I read you wrong?" Link didn't answer her; he couldn't answer himself. Zelda could feel the waves of stress coming off of him, ringing in her ears. Her hands went nowhere near him, but her voice poked his ribs teasingly, "Not that I can say I blame you; I completed my end of the trial with competence and aplomb. You may now confess how deeply in love you've fallen with the Princess." She examined her nails, voice royal and overdramatic. 

Link knew she was just trying to inject some levity and he smiled wryly at her, unimpressed. “Madly.” _You’re being a shit right now._

Zelda’s soft giggle showed that’s exactly the reaction she wanted. _I know!_ The tension had abated, if just for a moment, and they let it settle back over them as they considered their situation.

“Why do I get the sense that I’m wrong?” Zelda’s instinct thus far has been instrumental in guiding them, so she isn’t one to just disregard it. Link was quiet, listening. “I mean, I feel like I may be wrong about the trial demanding we fall in love.” They both flinched at her bluntness, “I’m not sure why. It seems logical, but… not logical enough.”

Link came up empty. “It… doesn’t exactly sound like it fits the definition of a Major Test of Trust.”

“Right. Like trying to make the riddle match the answer, not the other way around.”

The knight made a sound that indicated he agreed but didn’t say anything for a long while. Zelda was surprised when he spoke, “The other trials all required some sort of action to complete them,” he observed neutrally. A little too neutrally. “Maybe we should focus on things we can control.”

Zelda cocked her head over at him and while he pretended not to see her, she saw the flush creeping up his neck. Actions, huh? The Kittee grew when they performed a task, suggesting that was the correct path. Is Link insinuating…?

“Like what?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably. Why was she looking at him like that?

Zelda's grin grew more wolfish the longer he took to answer. “Are you asking for round two, Hero?” 

"What?" he balked. "That wasn't my point!"

Zelda knew it wasn't, but that didn't make her any less amused. "That wasn't a no."

Link pursed his lips and glared at her. She was intentionally toying with him, and it's no help that he's not as well versed in verbal swordplay as the Princess of Hyrule. Zelda's knight was still trying to think of a comeback when she, unsurprisingly, beat him to it. "Link, you're already going to be executed. At this point, you might as well just ask for what you want."

She watched as Link’s face drained of all color, then flushed again with a deeper vengeance. There’s no way he’d look at her. “Eh…” he strained, rubbing his hair bashfully. “’Asking’ isn’t the word I would use…”

Biting her lip, Zelda restrained herself from laughing. It really is adorable to see the fearsome Hero of Hyrule reduced to this vulnerable state with suggestion alone. However she wanted to cut it, the idea of her stoic, chivalrous knight trying to hide his lust for her is endearing. It’s a pleasant surprise that it's his idea this time. Sure, the trial may (or may not) demand this of them, but Zelda wasn’t adamantly opposed.

"Zelda... come on." _Be nice._ The poor guy was already flustered enough. "It's not like that. It's just that the trials-- 

“Right,” Zelda grins, interrupting him. “Of course not. Just for the trial. Your dedication to your esteemed role as Hero of Hyrule is astounding.” Link definitely didn’t notice her breasts between her arms as she leaned towards him. “Your legendary sacrifice will be sung throughout the ages.”

Green eyes watched the way the muscles on his chest and arms rippled with stress. Zelda sat up, head tilted in a way that had her hair falling over her shoulder. Link suctioned his back against the pedestal of the Gerudo warrior, as if she would protect him. She didn’t. 

"Hated every moment of it." She stared at him through her lashes. There was a challenge in her eyes. She's not just toying with him now; she's trying to get him to admit to something. When it came to what exactly that was, Link was a little slow on the uptake. "Gritted your teeth and took one for the sake of Hyrule."

There might have been a little truth to that second one.

Link's pupils colonized more blue the longer the tense silence screamed in his ears. Zelda didn’t miss the way his breathing changed, like it couldn't decide between shallow and laboured. His eyes couldn’t seem to stay on hers, no matter how much danger she held in them. Finally, she sat still, staring him down in the tigrine way the Kittee had before.

Link finally met her gaze and held it. His nostrils flared, and his stern expression didn’t cover the desire in his eyes. “Zelda…” It was a warning. _You're pushing it._

Her brow twitched, cunning and predacious. "Let me guess: you're eating yourself alive over this. Maybe you've rationalized bedding your charge for the sake of the trial, but you can't rationalize away the fact you liked it. " Her implication was clear: Or the fact that you want more.

Link was made acutely aware that he was composed of meat and sustenance and prey items. That, however, doesn't mean he's defenseless. Echoes of her voice on the other side of the door howled in his mind, but Link remained steadfast and stern. "Zelda. What are you doing?"

"Admit it," she commanded, finger poking his chest. "It wasn't just for the trial." Link's eyes narrowed down at her finger. He was still, silent, like a coiled snake. "I saw your memories. Your knightly stoicism is transparent. You've desired something to that degree for a long time."

The accusation got under Link's skin. 

"You sound like you really want to hear that." Link's nostrils flared as he leaned menacingly close to her face. Raid sirens went off in Zelda's head at the intimidating glint in his eye. Zelda felt heat coil in her as she tried to figure out exactly what he was threatening to do to her. "Why does my answer matter so much to you?"

Zelda knew better than to answer that trap dressed as a question.

They glowered and breathed each other's air.

It's not like she didn't understand his implication. Zelda knew full well he'd painted her into a corner. If she's to break him of his reservations, she'd have to get him back on his heels. "This isn't about me, Link. Answer my question."

"Oh, I think it is." Zelda's lip curled and she visibly resisted the urge to bite him. "I wonder how long you've wanted me to admit something like that. Did any part of you think that maybe, just maybe, you could break your knight if you moved just right? Liked the way I tried not to look at you? Wished I'd gone into your tent in Hebra?"

"That was perfectly innocent," Zelda objected.

Link pretended not to hear her. He was focused, intense, considering something. Zelda realized he had the master sword of an idea, and was thinking about weaponizing it against her. Zelda's unblinking stare spoke in the silence: _Do it._ _I dare you._

His voice dropped, rumbling bass in the space between them. "I bet I know what you were thinking about in Gerudo Town."

Zelda's heart stopped. To her growing horror, the barest hint of a smile appeared on his lips. _Got you. _

_His tongue lavishing her, his fingers, his chin glistening, the feeling of him stretching her, his disheveled hair, his narrow hips-- _

Link wore a superior expression, like he'd just put Zelda in her place. He'd claimed victory too early, because Zelda's heart restarted at a breakneck speed, fueling her flitting mind. She won't be bested that easily. Link looked concerned when her expression changed and she tilted her head to eye the thin fabric of his Gerudo pants. When Zelda's eyes lifted, mischief and challenge glowed with the power of the Goddess in them.

"I'm so sorry... That question must have burned you up," she whispers, voice cloying and unapologetic. Link visibly resisted the urge to move as her nose lightly touched his, an almost sweet gesture. "Wanna know what I was thinking about?"

Link made a tense sound in the back of his throat. It's like Zelda could hear his blood rushing south.

Zelda smiled, her lips so impossibly close without actually touching his. "I was thinking..."

Her hand rested on his knee. “... That you look a little dehydrated.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Zelda let out a surprised yelp as she was pushed back onto the pillows. Link was on her in an instant, hand sliding up her inner thigh as he placed a heated kiss to her mouth.

Their hearts pounded against their pressed chests as if trying to swap places.

Her hair was pinned under her back and it hurt a little, but Zelda couldn’t think of that as Link’s calloused fingers skinny-dipped into her, just testing the waters. Link swallowed her moan greedily and gently circled her clit. The way she shivered would boost anyone’s self-esteem.

Nails dug harder into the flesh of his shoulder as she writhed against his hand, wanting more. The sound of Zelda's needy whines drowned out anything the voice in his head had to say. He broke the kiss so he could better angle his wrist and though Zelda lamented the loss, she was rewarded with him slipping into her and curling his fingers.

Link watched her eyes roll back in her head.

They’d been in such a rush they’d forgotten to extinguish the torches in the room. Link certainly didn’t mind, since he could see every detail of her, sweat and fluids glowing orange on her skin. His free hand lent a thumb to help her along and she writhed at the end of his arm.

“Link…” she shivered.

Because no good deed goes unpunished, Link rewarded her with more pressure on her clit. He could feel her clench tight around him, so hard it took strength for each reentry. Zelda’s crown of braids was nearly ripped from her head as she threaded her fingers through it. She cursed in a way definitely not suited for a lady of nobility.

The best friend rested weightily against Link’s knee.

_Her moans her smile the firelight on her skin the way she says his name—_

Link hunched a little lower so that he had a better angle to piston his arm back and forth into her. Knowing her body with some degree of proficiency emboldened him to leverage his silos of strength. Zelda arched in surprise at the force and the sound of his knuckles hitting her each time nearly rivaled her moans.

Gone was the timid person who Zelda had pleaded to help her release. Link had every intention to please her over and over.

Zelda suddenly sat up, throwing him off of his rhythm. Her slim fingers fisted his hair and they made heated eye-contact. The full breadth of her need didn’t fit in her expression, but Link understood it all the same. So, when Zelda’s hand pressed down on his skull just the slightest bit, Link knew what she wanted.

Desire pounded between his hips as he lay prostrate between her knees on his elbows. Pheromones played evil little tricks on his mind. Heady déjà vu hit him at the overwhelming scent, now only augmented by the fact he could see her clearly.

Link didn’t come here to sightsee. His fingers returned to her while he pushed his shoulder under her leg. The feeling of her heel digging into his back was clearly meant to urge him on. Who was he to deny her anything? As long as he’s not thinking of himself, he could rationalize away all of this untoward behavior as just being part of his duty as the Hero.

Link kissed the junction of her hip just to see if she’d complain, which she did, and then lowered to taste her. Spicy simmered fruit.

Is this what Zelda meant by ‘dehydrated’? Or was she just referring to the voltfruit juice? Link decided he liked both answers.

Zelda cried out at the soft, firm attention of his tongue. His fingers pressed incessantly at the spot inside her, but from this angle he couldn’t quite match the blistering pace he’d set before. It left Zelda simmering in frustration on his tongue.

It’s like he could taste her thoughts because he growled and reached for the best friend. Zelda nearly sobbed at the lack of contact when he pulled away. It took him longer than either of them would have liked, since his fingers were slippery and he couldn’t see with her thigh blocking his view. However, her patience was rewarded by the vibrations kicking on and Link gently pressing it against her.

All was forgiven as Link’s mouth returned to her and he groaned at the taste. Zelda’s body yielded to the friend, and Link worked diligently to get her back to that precipice. He pressed the device all the way in over and over, building steadily in force, hearing the buzz muffle and roar with each back and forth. He could feel the vibrations on his tongue.

Zelda’s hands gripped his hair in a way that left him shivering. She pulled him impossibly closer to her, and he felt her hips gyrate against his face in a way that couldn’t possibly be voluntary. _“Holy fuck_, Link!”

What force he offered, she met. What passion he gave, she redoubled.

Her ankles dug into his back and his scalp hurt from the harsh treatment but he couldn’t stop because he knew she was _right there_ and he’s not one to back down from a challenge, any challenge. Zelda cursed so nastily that each word pulsed a bead of fluid into the sheets below him.

_The burst of pleasure that soaked his shirt._

Link wanted that. He flattened his tongue and ground onto her hard. The circle of his fist made a slapping sound with each thrust. The device was slick, and his fingers had no traction, and the force of his motions nearly made him lose his grip, but he was so determined!

Zelda keened, and Link felt the device push out of her with her rush of pleasure. There was not enough darkness to hide the sight of warm, lewd spurts from worming into his subconscious. His chin and chest were completely soaked, along with a circle of the sheets around them. Knowing better now, Link reduced the pressure of his mouth, as if writing her clit an apology note one letter at a time. So, so, so gentle.

The hands in his hair softened, but she didn’t push him away. With the knowledge that she can go more than once, Link was perfectly happy to do this all day. The ache in his groin would have to settle for friction against the sheets.

“What do I taste like?” he more felt than heard Zelda’s voice.

Link paused his ministrations and looked up. Zelda was completely hypnotized to the point she didn’t even seem to realize she’d asked him a question. The pride in his chest made it to his eyes and he smiled back, “Want a taste?”

Zelda leaned forward, already wanting the kiss before he’d offered it. She groaned at the taste of herself in his mouth. Somehow, despite all of the things they’d done together, it was kissing him that felt the most forbidden. The way he cupped her cheek, heedless to the wetness on his hand. How had he managed to be both tender and rough at once?

They pulled away to catch their breath. Zelda’s head rolled back and she laughed dizzily. “I’m jealous of you.”

Link didn’t blame her. It’s an acquired taste that, while he liked it at first, only grew better each time. Sweet, sapid, spicy.

Zelda felt Link lift her leg to put it back over his shoulder. _Whoa, he’s got a lot of stamina. _Her heart hadn’t yet evened out when his fingers returned to lavish her again. Déjà vu hit her out of nowhere.

Her on her back, leg over his shoulder.

Him on his knees, leaning down to please her.

Is this what Link had experienced? Zelda played the in-their-shoes game in her mind. Something was going on in her bliss-fogged brain. Something important. Focus, Princess! You had something there. It’s very hard to think with him doing _that_ right now!

No, she realized all at once. It wasn’t what he’d experienced. Not exactly.

The sudden change in her energy gave him pause. Link stared at her with concerned blue eyes, “What is it? Do you need to stop?”

Zelda blinked back into reality. What? She shook her head no, absolutely not! “No! I—” she was jetlagged and slow, but she knew she had something. “I think I just realized something.”

Link remained silent and still, his hands resting on her thighs. Hunger and concern made for strange bedfellows on his face.

Zelda swallowed and sat up a little. The buzzing friend complained that it wasn’t presently in use. “Reciprocity…” Zelda mumbled. “The Kittee grew when we reciprocated. Gave what we received.” She seemed frustrated that she hadn’t found her point. Link was beyond impressed she’d managed a single coherent thought.

The least he could do is try to form one himself. “Give what we receive…” he echoed. The friend writhed in his hand. This is a lot to ask of a brain robbed of blood. Their pause in passion left him aware of fluid drying on his chest. No, focus. What was Zelda getting at? She’d already reciprocated everything he’d done for her, and then some.

Wait. Maybe that’s it. _And then some._

Understanding filtered through Link’s irises. His face flushed at the idea and there was no hiding his body’s response. _To make Zelda feel what he felt._ Whether to exact revenge or for the sheer pleasure of sharing, Link wasn’t sure.

“I… don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Zelda’s face flushed so prettily; he would do anything to see it again. Yes, even that. She seemed nervous, which was fair. “You didn’t ask me if I want it to hurt.”

What? Confused, Link squinted and hedged, “Do you… _want _it to hurt?”

“No.” It got him to laugh softly, just from the unexpectedness. Zelda was trying to break him of his nerves, and Link wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was good at following directions, anyway.

"Do you... are you sure you want that?" Link stuttered. He obviously wasn't as well-versed in Hylian anatomy, but it seemed like something that she may not enjoy. Link wasn't sure if Zelda had whatever equivalent of what she had discovered in him. And at this point, he's too embarrassed to ask. "I mean, how do I even--"

Zelda deadpanned at him. Her arousal grew impatient, panging behind her navel. "Link, how do you think I knew how to not hurt you?" She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. _I've got one too, you know._

Understanding bubbled up. _Oh._ The molten desire in her eyes answered his question in no unclear terms. He felt his aching length straining to get closer to her, to satisfy those desires.

"Okay," Link said after a moment of decision. He cracked his neck and stretched his shoulders like he was in for a long night. The hard set of his angular features was so determined, Zelda may have climaxed in that moment untouched. "Major Test of Trust, right?"

His smile was devastating.

Link gently pushed her shoulder. “Lay back.” 

Any arousal Zelda may have lost during negotiations returned tenfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, friends! I was unhappy with the pacing of this chapter, so I've overhauled it. Enjoy!


	26. Worthy

~*~*~*~*~*~

Just focus.

Complete the trial.

If he just follows the example she set all should be fine, right?

Link settled back between her legs and chastely kissed her thigh. Their previous urgency hadn’t magically disappeared, but Link’s anxiety was unfortunately siphoning off some of that energy. Zelda was kind enough to pretend she didn’t notice the slight tremble to his hands.

Muscle memory guided him back into familiar territory, trailing little kisses closer and closer towards the apex of her hips. Link’s still-slick fingers gently returned to her, teasing everywhere except for where she needed him.

A frustrated sound whistled through Zelda’s teeth. Even though she’d been given release, it didn’t feel like even close to enough; The blistering pace he had set earlier left her with an ache that Link’s tender touches did next to nothing to abate. Somehow, the gentle pressure only made it worse. Link pushed a finger into her which Zelda made clear was not nearly enough.

But this is as fast as he can go.

Link took his time and when he finally lowered his mouth back onto her, Zelda nearly sobbed with joy. Still, he was so, so gentle. Like he was trying to uproot a Silent Princess and replant it: Like Zelda was a rare and delicate thing.

She’s not.

Zelda was about to say so in no unclear terms, until she felt Link’s slick fingers withdraw and move lower. Tentative, unsure. The word he was spelling with his tongue trailed off like he lost his focus while he explored with trembling pads of his fingers. He heard her exhale and pulled away, as if he thought that had hurt her.

No, you’re fine. This is fine.

Link remembered to breathe through his nose. The heady scent of her made it hard to focus. Still, his finger traced the outside rim, unfamiliar, impossibly unyielding. There’s no way—

Is this really what some ancient Sheikah monk contrived for them? The level of hedonism here would warrant stripping Zelda of her powers, not granting her them!

“Link,” Zelda complained. “I’m okay, really.”

Link better felt her voice than he heard it. Zelda squirmed, uncomfortable. Right, yeah, quit thinking about yourself, knight. Just focus on her. He redoubled his efforts, drawing hearts on her pearl in a way that had her both relieved and needy. Pride welled in his chest while the sheets stuck to it. His fingers cautiously applied more pressure and Zelda shivered.

Link knew the feeling.

Encouraged, Link built a rhythm with his tongue that drew sounds out of Zelda that made him forget where he was and what he was doing. A quiver tightened her thighs around his head; If she just squeezed until his skull cracked, he’d be perfectly fine with that.

This is the Princess of Hyrule, and he is her appointed knight. She has every privilege to treat him however she sees fit, and it is his duty to attend to her needs. This is him just excelling at his job, just as he always does.

Link’s first joint made it past the barrier.

Zelda’s breathing hitched and Link _felt_ her shiver. No amount of Link’s imagination had ever suggested that she could be even tighter or hotter than what he’d seen from her before. Not to be outdone, however, Link’s imagination ran amok of what it would feel like to be inside her here.

Link hadn’t considered the possibility that _she_ could hurt _him._

The throaty groan he exhaled rippled through her. Something went right with the flat of his tongue, and Link’s finger was pushed out unexpectedly. He tried to return, but had no proficiency, and Zelda hissed. “Nails! Nails, watch your—”

“Sorry! Should I--” he yelped, retracting like he’d been burned. Zelda’s frustrated sound cut him off. His hand wasn’t on her and his tongue was busy making dumb words and not pleasing her!

When Zelda had accidentally let too much teeth into the equation, she readjusted and tried again. Link suppressed his immediate instinct to flee and made to follow the precedent she set. After all, he quickly forgave her. Maybe she’d do the same for him.

Turns out, she did.

Link readjusted, set back to work, and reveled in the way Zelda’s back arched. It pushed his neck back uncomfortably, but victory is better with injury. His finger hedged back and forth, gaining more ground. Do they make fireproof gloves for this? It felt like he was testing the waters of Death Mountain with his middle finger.

Link’s knuckles pressed into her flesh and Zelda said his name in a way that made his hips cant into the mattress.

_I wonder if she…_

He twisted his finger, searching the velvet-soft surface for something.

Where?

“Unfortunately, not,” Zelda half-sighs. “You’ve already found mine.”

Aw, that’s too bad. Guess he’ll just have to redouble his efforts on what he’s got to work with. Link licked a stripe up her slit and came up for air. He has incredible stamina, but he decided it may be best to watch her face.

The show was spectacular.

Eyebrows knitted, focused, lips parted in such a way that it physically hurt not to kiss them in that moment. As tempting as that was, Link certainly didn’t want to risk breaking the smooth glide he’d cultivated. Zelda’s breathing would forever be on loop in his psyche.

Will he ever hear it again once they return to Hyrule?

If they return to Hyrule?

Will he be able to compose himself? Will he lose focus against the impending Calamity? Will Daruk slap his shoulder heartily, or launch him into the lava? Will Revali make snippy remarks or openly scathe him? Will Urbosa laugh aloud or call down a bolt of lightning onto him?

Will Mipha know?

“Link… We can stop.”

The Hero blinked back to reality: Urbosa’s bed. Gerudo Town. No sky. Firelight. Two fingers inside the Princess. Green eyes staring with concern at odds with her flushed face.

Wait, two fingers?

“I…”

“Are you okay?”

The Hero didn’t feel all that heroic. Link was perfectly still except for the bead of sweat trailing down his throat. It took him a moment to realize that if anything, he should be the one asking her that, not the other way around.

Link licked his lips. In a very literal sense, he could feel how stressed she was.

His length ached. The heart in his chest convulsed violently. Everything in his body cried out for him to continue, no matter the cost. It was a hostage situation of the conscience.

The best friend continued to bemoan its lack of use.

_What am I doing?_

A shrug and a, ‘the Goddess made me do it’ attitude? As long as he doesn’t focus on himself, he’s still Hylia’s golden boy? Just complete the trial?

_Admit it! This isn’t just for the trial._

Zelda was right. There is no rationalizing this sort of behavior. The level of cognitive dissonance it takes for him to stoop so low as to subject the Princess to this… It goes against everything Link thought he knew. It certainly couldn’t be a prerequisite for completing the trials. They must just be acting on some unaddressed lust. A surfacing of intemperance.

_So tight! So slick. _Zelda’s hair made a halo around her head. Her breasts heaved with every breath she took. Even remaining still, her abdomen quivered from the feeling of him stretching her.

Link wanted her so, so bad.

There’s no hiding that fact from her; His body told no lies. Still, she slowly sat up on her elbows, wincing at the strange angle of his fingers at her own movement. Zelda stared at him deeply, trying to gauge his thoughts.

What could he possibly say to her?

_I’m fine? _Lie.

_I’m having second thoughts? _Truth.

_My fingers are stuck?_ Half-truth.

_I don’t want to do this? _Half-lie.

Zelda’s hand gently resting on his arm startled him. She pushed his forearm and, despite her worry, she couldn’t help the way her breath hitched at how his fingers slid out of her. Sitting on her knees on either side of Link’s, Zelda placed her hands on his thighs and stared at him earnestly.

It clearly took self-control on her part not to touch him where he so desperately wanted her to. At this point, it would only make matters worse. “Link… I’m concerned. Please say something.”

Link swallowed and shuddered. After acclimating to her, his fingers felt frostbitten in the tepid air. Sensory overload shouted for him to both _do_ and _do not_ simultaneously. The Hero was barreling towards a crisis of the self.

“What… what are we doing?” Link finally forced out. It was such a stupid question.

Zelda contemplated for a moment. “Our best?” Judging by the frustration on his face, that answer didn’t help. Well, there’s the literal answer, which would do even less good. What? Solving the riddle? Getting her powers from Hylia? Saving Hyrule? All feel equally silly.

_Her voice: It seems cruel to get me attached to something only to take it away when I’ve succeeded._

Link sighed and ran his hand through his hair. A habit, which he realized too late, was unfortunate as he remembered which hand he used. Grimacing at himself, Link clarified, “This. Any of this. I can’t… Not when we’re forced. Neither of us want this. You can’t possibly want this."

Dread twisted their stomachs at his words. Silence sucked the oxygen from the room.

Zelda stared open-mouthed and harrowed. All the logic and careful cajoling and gentle reassurances she’d said to him suddenly all rang malicious in her ears. She was so careful not to force him! Surely, that wasn’t the issue here?

She glanced down, searching for evidence. He wanted to shrivel, but even the slightest glance her way or the most minute shift of her fingers had him achingly hard again. Did he really not want her?

It’s not like anyone would blame him. Somehow, even when it comes to her having to fulfil her end of the destiny, he still had to come in and pick up her slack for her. Link has to be the Hero, to grit and bear her. Zelda can’t even use her own cursed powers without some knight in shining armor riding in to save her.

No one wants the damsel in distress; They want the idea of her.

Meanwhile, Mr. Perfect somehow manages to rise above all corporeal desires and remains knightly without fault. Even thoroughly wiled by her temptations and her reassurances, there’s just no getting him off the impossibly straight and cruelly narrow. Amazing swordsman, amazing knight, amazing every goddess-damned thing. Holier-than-thou even with his fingers drying on the sheets.

Funny how it’s just as much his prudishness as it is her incompetence that will destroy Hyrule.

Zelda crossed her arms. “Speak for yourself,” she snorted bitterly.

Her change in tone snapped Link out of his spiraling.

What?

After remembering how to speak the language, Link realized she was answering him. 

“Huh?”

“I _said_, speak for yourself,” she snapped. “You don’t know what I want. And apparently, I haven’t the foggiest clue what you want either. I said I’d dig in my heels and I meant it. I feel awful enough as it is.”

Déjà vu slammed Link over the head.

_I wish I could make you forget you’re the Hero._

_I can’t help wanting to return your kindness._

_ Want to know what I want? I want to return the favor._

Zelda said too much for him to unpack, let alone to process his knee-jerk associations to it. They stared at each other, trying and failing to read each other’s mind.

What he understood was she was upset with him. Angry? Because he stopped? No, that can’t be it. ‘Dig my heels in’? Does she think that he feels forced by her? There’s no way Zelda could possibly believe that.

Judging by her sulk, that was exactly her concern.

She’s right. He doesn’t know what she wants. The last time he’d asked, she answered that she wanted freedom, success, to complete the trials. None of those answers are ‘_you’. _Was she just indulging in a little fun, like she’d said in the Trial of Faith? He assumed that’s what she meant when she said, ‘not just for the trials.’

What was she thinking about on the other side of the door?

“You’re right.” Her eyes watched him from their corners. Link didn’t specify which part she was right about, so Zelda assumed all of it was correct. Her intense stare bore into him.

“Do you not want me?”

Link flinched at the direct hit. There’s no simple answer. After several beats, he finally forced out, “No. I do.”

Even as her heart stuttered from the admission, Zelda’s eyes unpacked him, taking him in. She saw his memories. She saw his shames, his thought process, his self-imposed chains. If he’s not lying to her, and it doesn’t seem like he is… Then why?

Zelda thinks she might have an idea as to the source of his hangup.

No sudden movements, her hands slid up his arms. Zelda ducked to catch his eye contact, which he tentatively met. A little glimmer in them meant she had an idea. Is he really still clinging on to the idea that this is solely for the trials? How is she to convince him otherwise, when it is only partly true?

Link’s blood surged at her smile. “I never told you what I was thinking about in Gerudo Town. Do you still want to know?”

The knight balked. The skin under her trailing fingertips shivered as she toyed with the hair on the back of his neck. Link’s tongue was suddenly dry, which certainly didn’t help when he realized she’d asked him a question. He nodded dumbly.

Zelda’s demure smile grew into a smirk, and she dipped a chaste kiss to his collarbone. “Well, at first, I was thinking that I was quite uncomfortable.” Her lips spoke against the flesh between his neck and shoulder. Link’s body greedily stole all the blood that was supposed to help him process her words. “It actually got to a point where I was in pain.”

She punctuated that last part with a little bit of teeth.

Link’s high-pitched sound was drowned out by her whisper. “So, I investigated rumors of a… secret type of store. You know, the kind full of ineffective weapons.” Link’s face flushed, embarrassed at his own words on her lips. She used them wickedly up the column of his throat—and when did Link’s hands move to her hips? They never quite got close enough to his to assuage the building ache in his groin.

“That worked, for a little while. But my wrist got tired. I wished I’d had some help, but there was no one around for whom I desired such things. My prudish appointed knight certainly was going to be of no help.”

Even through his shiver, Link managed to pull back and give her a sour expression. Zelda’s eyelids hovered at half-mast.

“Or so I thought.”

Link’s heart stopped. She grazed her teeth along his earlobe, hot breath leaving him weak. “Turns out,” she whispers, “Even without you there, you were a big help.”

Desire coursed through him as her meaning got across and he groaned. Her breasts pressed against his chest, nipples mapping star-charts along his skin wherever they moved. “The prudish knight you hated,” he growled, implication clear. _I don’t believe you._

Zelda’s soft giggle meant that she enjoyed the challenge.

“Sure did. So much.” His taut muscles rippled under her, much to her delight. “Hated how good he was at everything he did. Hated the way everyone around him swoons. Hated how he never gave me the privacy I needed.” Zelda felt his throat work. His hands gripped his own thighs until the skin whitened. “Hated knowing that even if I asked him, he’d never give me what I wanted.”

Link leaned back and Zelda let him. The shock was evident on his face.

“There are only two orders I know you won’t follow: ‘Leave me alone’… and ‘share my tent.’”

The knight narrowed his eyes. Her beguiling words wouldn’t weave a narrative like this without plotholes. She just wants his fingers back inside her. Is she not taking his reservations seriously? It’s unfair that Zelda would just say what she thought Link wants to hear to get something from him.

Unaffected by his suspicions, Zelda released him and reclined against the pillows. She shrugged noncommittally, “I had come to terms with that. However, what happens within the four walls of my imagination is my own business. I wondered what it would be like…”

Link’s eyes bulged.

“Would you be bigger?” She picked up the still-humming friend and eyed it. Then she passed him a playful pout. “Smaller?” Link would have been self-conscious if there were truth to her teasing. “Would you direct that intense stare at me? Would you be tender, anxious and slow? Or bruising, rough and fast?”

Link’s breath hitched as she set the device against her inner thigh. Her bent knee blocked his view, but his picture-perfect imagination filled in everything his eyes missed. “I wondered what it would take to break you. Or if you even—ah! Had a breaking point at all.” She was interrupted by her own gasp as the best friend rumbled vicious vibrations through her folds. Link nearly fainted from the headrush.

“I could have pushed you harder. I thought about it, tending your wounds in the cabin. You’re stoic, but your face still changes color.” Her abdomen shivered as she pressed the friend a little closer to herself, letting it ripple up into her throat. “And I wondered… How does one walk behind me for all that time, and not see the way that I move?”

_Tight riding pants._

Fire roiled behind Link’s navel. He watched, hypnotized, as she gently teased herself. Zelda wasn’t even looking at him; she was just talking aloud to herself as she always does, as if he wasn’t even there. She was pleasing herself to the memory of pleasing herself.

To the memory of _him._

“Zelda…” he panted. She couldn’t be serious… She must be making this up.

“The most I’d ever received was, quite sadly, from the saddle. It only made the trips all the more unbearable.” Link resisted the savage urge to stroke himself. If she’s making this up, she sure has put a lot of thought into it…

“I wondered what it would be like…” she moaned lightly as she pushed the friend into herself, “To mount you instead.”

Arousal shot him so hard that a wounded sound escaped him, and Link realized too late that his hand was already wrapped around the base. _Holy… Wow, that’s hot._

“This was the closest I could get. But it wasn’t enough… So, I engineered some upgrades. That helped. But still… it wasn’t enough.”

_Her frustrated sounds on the other side of the door._

Link watched, mesmerized, as she gently worked the best friend in and out of herself. The buzzing roared and hummed in time with each dip out of sight. Zelda shivered, then moved her leg aside as Link’s hand slid up her inner thigh (when did he put that there?) towards the apex of her core. “I wanted more. I tried putting my best friend in all sorts of places, but even that only worked for a little while.”

The knight groaned deeply at the feeling of his own fist pulling roughly along his length. For someone so left-brained, his imagination was vivid and colorful, and so were the images her words conjured.

Zelda keened as his finger gently circled her clit and she increased the force behind each thrust into herself. Sweat gathered between her breasts and in the dip of her neck.

“I desired that deadly precision you use. The balance you employ in battle. I wanted to be handled, roughed, pushed, touched—not as one would a Princess. I wanted you to pound me until I split in two or you depleted your stamina, whichever came first.” Link increased the pressure on her clit and her hips bucked. Their heavy breaths mingled.

Zelda opened her eyes, and Link met them.

“I wanted you long before the trials. I wanted to save Hyrule, sure, but I also wanted to be worthy. I wanted to be your equal.”

His galloping heart tripped. What?

_Selfishly, I wanted to drag you down to my level._

Did she really, truly believe she wasn’t worthy of him? As if not having Hylia’s power somehow made her below him? He remembered Urbosa’s words: _She gets frustrated every time she looks up and sees you carrying that sword on your back… It makes her feel like a failure._

Urbosa was right.

Link floundered, having so many things to cite to prove her wrong that he couldn’t get any out. So profoundly, incredibly, off base! He’s not exactly a man of many words. How does he express this to her?

_I wanted you to pound me until I split in two._

Link’s blown pupils dragged up and down her perfect firelit form. How can Zelda possibly think she’s not worthy of that? He’ll just have to show her that she is.

Zelda gasped as he swatted her hand away and took control of the best friend. With rough, bruising strokes, he worked her higher than she could work herself. Her pitching cries reflected off the stucco and clung to the walls of his psyche.

Desires and images of what he wanted to do to her flooded his vision. He couldn’t see an inch in front of his face.

Link growled and Zelda suddenly felt cold. He released the best friend and left it humming inside her.

She blinked in confusion as he got out of the bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The cresting wave of her orgasm suddenly lost all force. Bleary, confused, and now in pain, Zelda looked around the blurry room for where Link had disappeared to. “Link…? Wha—”

She hadn’t even found him yet when a hand roughly gripped her hip and rolled her over. Her gasp of surprise was dampened by the pillow as Link roughly gripped her hips and placed her on her knees. Under any other circumstance, the Princess would be embarrassed by such a scandalous, vulnerable position. Link’s hands gripped her supple cheeks, positioning and manhandling her into _exactly_ where he wanted her.

“Link?” Zelda gaped after she turned her head to breathe.

He didn’t answer, just pressed the friend against her clit while he grabbed his base and positioned himself. Zelda choked on a sob as something both firm and velvet-soft pressed against her. Everything in her body shrieked _yes, yes! _He fisted her hair and pulled it, arching her back to get a better angle and she moaned.

They both groaned at the feeling of Link slowly stretching her. There was no resistance, being so worked up already, but still he held back the last vestiges of animalism for the sake of not hurting her. He slid all the way into her as if they were specifically tailor-made for one another.

Link bent forward to whisper in her ear, “You’re worthy.”

Then he pulled back and thrust his hips into her hard. Electricity sparked down their spins and Zelda arched in lordosis at the overwhelming pleasure. This position allowed him deeper entry and Link felt that he hit an end point inside her. Zelda’s legs gave out, but Link’s hand gripped her hard and supported her weight.

No longer was he gentle. No longer was he nervous. This isn’t for the trials. This is because she _wants_ it. Because he _wants_ to give it to her. And he fully intends to.

The amount of strength it takes to thrust and support and pull her hair and balance on his knees had sweat pouring down his back. Zelda’s moans all strung together into one long sound interrupted by each pounding thrust. “You wanted this?” he growls, and Zelda nodded, tugging her own hair in his fist. “I have a lot of stamina. Guess you’re going to be. Split. In. Two.” He punctuated each word with a filthy, brutal push forward. The friction and heat and the _grind_ was so intense, but the amount of strength he used actually helped keep his pleasure at bay.

Zelda, meanwhile, had no such levee. Her walls tightened and fluttered around him, and a wave of pleasure crashed through her with a wail. The force of it pushed him out and made him lose rhythm. Spurts of her orgasm soaked his legs, her calves, and the already ruined bedsheets.

When the river began to trickle, Link reentered with equal ferocity and didn’t let up. Zelda moaned into the pillow.

_Oh he was serious about that stamina!_

Each driving of his hips pushed her face harder into the pillow, but the white-hot pleasure blotted out any discomfort from her hair being pulled or her neck bending too far. Link was somehow both wild and precise, overflowing with passion and brutality, and Zelda wasn’t sure if they were fucking or fighting. Either way, she was fine letting him win.

“Holy _fuck_ Zelda!” he snarled and his pace picked up. Zelda felt another wave cresting.

Link felt the same. No! Not yet. He doesn’t want this to be over yet.

Then Link suddenly pulled away and Zelda whined like he’d kicked her. In fact, that may have hurt less. “No! Link, don’t stop. Please, please, please don’t stop.”

Even though the Princess begging for him made his heart warm with pride, he resisted her. Instead, she felt something cold against her cheeks, then Link’s fingers exploring, prodding. Zelda sobbed and bit the pillow, nails scraping the sheets as she clawed them, while Link’s fingers slid the special slick elixir around her.

Then he pushed them into her.

“Fuck!” she cried, Link paused, just to make sure it wasn’t pain. By the way she squirmed against his hand, that wasn’t the case. Zelda desperately needed more! Naturally, the kind knight so chivalrously obliged by pushing his hand into her until his knuckles settled in the valley of her supple flesh. Zelda’s entire body shivered on the end of his arm. It was a sight Link would see right before his death.

Zelda cried out as he worked in and out of her, then nearly started crying for real when he pulled away. “Link…!” she complained. Her hips writhed tantalizingly at him.

Link picked up the best friend, ever the perfect companion, and settled it against her. Zelda fisted the sheets and ground her hips back into the firm pressure he applied. Link watched in fascination as her body yielded, and the buzzing sound muffled. Zelda’s mouth produced a nasty string of curse words that licked fire up his hips.

Link rewarded her by rocking the friend into her. Gently, at first. Then, not gentle at all.

If there were a single soul out in the desert, they would have heard the sounds coming from Urbosa’s bedroom. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Link pulled the friend all the way out, then pushed all the way in and Zelda felt yet another orgasm crash over her. It stuck Link’s leg hairs to his skin, but he didn’t care one bit because _wow_ _the sight the smell the pride of giving it to her the way her legs are jelly beneath her!_

The best friend was the only source of stimulation she’s receiving. Link wonders…

“Ah!” Zelda cried as she was lifted to press her breasts against the headboard.

Link adjusted his grip and pressed the device all the way in. He grabbed the base and positioned himself at her free entrance, and Zelda’s teeth chattered. “I bet you twenty rupees,” he breathed into her ear.

Zelda cut a side-eyed glower at him and hissed, “You're on.” Then she pushed back onto him, and Link’s eyes rolled back. The angle was more difficult, less forgiving, and he had to spread his knees to adjust.

But the vibrations! The further into her that he worked, the more parallel surface along his length stimulated him in a way that even his phenomenal imagination hadn’t anticipated. Link hissed and bit the flesh of her shoulder to keep himself in check.

She was so, so full. Full in a way that she hadn’t even fantasized about. This was Link’s idea! Even multiple orgasms in, Zelda felt another building in the pit of her belly. One hand steadying the device and the other on her hip, Link found his courage and resumed grinding into her.

The angle was different, so he couldn’t quite get the force he wanted. However, Zelda had more leverage on her knees like this, and he was able to pull her back into him by the hip. Each push forward jostled the device and hit both of them with varying intensities of sensation.

Soon, Zelda pressed her hands against the headboard and met his thrusts with force of her own.

“Zelda!” Link snarled, his head falling into her hair as they pushed and wrestled one another. If they kept up like this, Link wouldn’t last much longer. He shifted his hips forward so there was space between her rear and his front. Zelda was confused as to what would possibly require use of both of his hands, and frankly was too blissed to decode it.

She wouldn’t need to.

Link turned the dial and activated the second setting. Zelda cried out and the redoubling of sensation, and Link was back to her, thrusting roughly into her. He was not immune to the change either and his hips stuttered, trying to keep control just long enough—

“Link! Yes! Oh, _keep doing that!"_

She came with tempestuous force, her scream swallowed by the desert. Link didn’t allow the wild force of her orgasm to push him out but instead held on for dear life. It was as if her body was pulling his lifeforce straight out of him, absorbing it into her own. Link’s head rolled back, and he let out one long, throaty groan as his own pleasure ripped through him.

Zelda felt his weight collapse against her. Her damp hair clung to her neck, and the whole world felt like midday Wastelands. However, the relief and pleasure settling into her was so great, she was unaware of any discomfort and probably would be for the remainder of her life. Her noodle legs gave out and she collapsed onto the bed with Link at her side.

They both panted and stared at the undulating ceiling.

_Whoa…_

They were both a sticky, sweaty mess. Link and Zelda’s hair was disheveled in a way that had no horizon between the two. The device continued to hum inside Zelda and she shut it off with a wince. Even so blissed out, Zelda still felt distinctly empty with both of her friends absent. Link felt like he’d never catch his breath.

They lay like that for an eternity. In this place, that may very well be the case.

Both felt the sated silence and did nothing to disturb it. Link made a soft sound and rolled to tuck his face into Zelda's side. Warmth bloomed between them as his heavy arm draped across her belly and he sighed into her slick skin. Their astral projections slowly settled back into their own bodies, and Link murmured something against her skin that she didn't catch.

"Hm?" hummed Zelda.

Link repeated himself. "You're worthy."


	27. Hunger

~*~*~*~*~*~

Something tickled Link’s nose.

Link sniffed away the offending something, but it just came right back. Why does Link get the sense that he’s felt this sensation before?

Oh, right. Because he has.

That’s the first thing he realized as he groggily hauled himself out of restfulness. Link awoke to Zelda’s hair in his face. Consciousness filled in the rest all at once: Her face tucked into his chest; soft breath on his skin; her arm folded between them; bare skin against his; heavy blankets; shared body heat.

The sheets beneath them were still soaked.

All of the libidinous memories of the previous night caught up to him simultaneously. The exploration, the nervousness, the new territory, the sounds of her moans, the fire licking up his hips, her hair in his fist, his name on her lips—All of it.

_Link… we can stop. Are you okay?  
_ _I wondered what it would be like to mount you instead.  
_ _Pound me until I split in two._

The memories were so overwhelming that the knight’s eyes shot open with a gasp. His whole body jerked at the intense recollections and at the fact that, no, that was not some intense lucid dream. Link was busy trying and failing to still his racing heartbeat when Zelda stirred.

He went rigid-still and waited for her to fall silent. The princess murmured something in her sleep, and Link had to bite his fist to keep from whimpering at the way her hips brushed his.

Easy, knight.

Deciding it probably best to not act on impulse right now, Link shifted his hips further away. Honestly, he should have released her and just gone about beginning his day—or, whatever equals a day here. His arm was asleep under her head. The wet sheets were uncomfortable, and the smell of stale coupling was not properly quarantined beneath the heavy covers.

However, despite all the good reasons to, Link hesitated to pull away.

_I wanted you._

_I wanted to be worthy._

Zelda’s words rattled around in Link’s head like shock arrows in a quiver. Caught between the voices of the Knight and the Hero chastising him for his idiocy, her voice sounded out of place. How did Zelda even manage to get a word in edgewise? By no small miracle, she had settled his oncoming anxiety attack the night before. How did Zelda know what it would take to pull him out of that downward spiral?

Link himself doesn’t even know what pulled him out of that spiral.

Zelda’s nose brushed his chest and she smiled in her sleep. Perhaps staying here for eternity is not necessarily a bad thing, Link thinks. Zelda may have had a point in asking whether it would be kinder not to just stay here with the universe on pause—if not kinder to said universe, maybe kinder to themselves.

That feeling of afterglow. Distinctly different than simple relief, the warmth in his chest. It sated a hunger that he hadn’t realized he had.

When was the last time he’d even received a hug?

Is it the satisfaction of the human need to be touched and seen and valued what Link was so overcome by? How horribly depressing that he hasn’t had that need met in any capacity to his recent memory. Would any warm body have produced whatever this feeling was?

Or is it just Zelda?

Link was brought out of his agonizing by the fluttering of Zelda’s eyelids. Wakefulness twitched her limbs experimentally, then she stretched. Dread settled in his stomach, fearing she would recoil in horror at their state.

“Link…?” Zelda murmurs.

The knight held his breath. Groggy green eyes panned up to try and focus on his, with moderate success. He got front-and-center view of her thoughts: confusion, realization, embarrassment. A touch of arousal?

Zelda made a show of curling her nose. “Mm... The sheets are wet,” she complained.

There are many things he’d prepared himself for her to say, all the heavy topics she could have broached—What have we done? Did you mean any of that? —but ‘the sheets are wet’ isn’t one of them.

Link nodded dumbly.

To his surprise, she didn’t pull away immediately. The Princess gave him a half-smile too quick to read. Their skin stuck and unpeeled when she slowly extricated herself from his stiff embrace. Link’s lungs had forgotten to perform for so long that Link was unsure whether his breath needed to go in or out. Neither ended up happening for fear that he would break the spell, that reality would slam her as hard as it did him.

No such thing happened. Zelda stretched languidly and sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. Link tried not to notice all her soft rounded shapes backlit in firelight.

Silence filled the space between them but provided none of the warmth. Link wasn’t sure if he wanted to fling himself from this bed or pull her back into it. By the way she hesitated, Zelda probably was thinking something similar. An energy that evaded his understanding radiated from her slumped shoulders.

_You’re worthy._

_Is this what you wanted?_

_Driving her face into the mattress._

_The second setting._

There’s no blaming the Goddess for that one. There’s no name for this strange emptiness; Like stealing the food from a starving man’s stomach. _It seems cruel to get me attached to something only to take it away when I’ve succeeded._

“Link,” Zelda says, breaking him out of his thoughts. Arm held demurely across her breasts, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I am unsure as to how… I suppose I should be thanking you?”

“Huh?”

Zelda toyed with the frayed ends of her hair and grimaced at the wall. “For… your expression of kindness.” Understanding still didn’t register on Link’s face, which was frustrating. Hylia, he can be rather dense sometimes. “For your efforts to fulfill the needs of others.”

The way Zelda said that would have been just as appropriate at a knighting ceremony: Prim, factual, proper.

Link rubbed the back of his neck as he got her meaning. He had gone above and beyond, hadn’t he? Neither of them had mentioned the trials because that would just be dancing around their new reality: that Link _wanted_ to fulfill that need in her first, and to complete the trials last.

_Is this what you wanted? _

Why is she acting like he did her some sort of selfless favor? Link floundered in his own alphabet soup of thought, unable to string anything intelligible together. If only all the different alter-egos of himself would quit fidgeting long enough for him to express something—anything, other than just nebulous conflict.

_I wanted to. You deserve that and more. What is this empty feeling?_

When words failed him, actions usually didn’t. Link reached out to place his hand over hers. It at least got her to look at him. Gratitude wasn’t the result of her smile; It left a bittersweet taste. There is something sad in getting what you want, because the best feels behind you.

_It seems cruel to get me attached to something only to take it away when I’ve succeeded._

“Pri—uh, Zelda, I—” Link tried to power through his own short-circuited thoughts. Where to even start?

Just when he was about to decide on a starting point, a distant scuffling sound broke his concentration. Both Hylians tensed and listened for the source of danger. That anxiety waned when Zelda heard Kittee's low chuffing join in with the sounds, like the creature was out of breath. With a sigh, Zelda laughed lightly, "Mischievous creature... You were saying, Link?"

Link shook off that jarring feeling and tried to focus. "Huh? I-I wasn't. Not anything important," he spewed out too quickly.

Zelda eyed him, sensing that's neither truth nor lie. Kindly, she decided to give him an out. "I think 'you're welcome' is what you were about to say?"

"You're... welcome?"

Zelda passed him a dissatisfied stare and decided to let that particular conversation thread die. She opened her mouth to redirect the conversation, but instead of her voice, they both heard the shattering of bottles from the Noble Pursuit Canteen. Zelda openly rolled her eyes as she stood, "It is by no small miracle of Hylia that Kittee did not interrupt us again."

Link snorted, "It seems to have more important things to do."

He averted his gaze as Zelda stretched, heedless of her own nudity, and strode out of sight to indulge in the water flowing from the ceiling into the trenches. She sighed in relief as the cool water flowed over her shoulders and smoothed her matted hair. While Link couldn't see her, he could definitely hear her. Ever the gentleman, Link focused on redressing himself instead. "Perhaps it has grown too large to fit through the arches by now."

Yeah, here's hoping. 

The brief dip in the tension ended with another noise outside startling them. A high, leonine roar wriggled under their Hylian skin just like it would any prey species. Then, immediately after, a splash and a clattering of various wooden objects. Zelda clutched her clothes to her damp skin and exchanged a spooked stare with Link.

Something's not right.

Claws on stone screeched into the skyless night.

The hairs on Zelda's arms stood on end. A sudden crash in the central plaza nearly made Zelda leap from her own skin. Both Hylians keened to glance over the stairwells but couldn’t see anything but a skyless void interrupted by palm fronds.

They waited.

The low bass of growls rumbled evenly from all around, as if from no point in particular. Another crash some distance away. Shattering of pots; claws on wood; heavy objects clattering. Wood creaking as a palm fell.

Link’s blood ran cold.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Perhaps it has only grown bored, just as it had in the throne room,” suggests Zelda. Link didn’t miss the way that her voice quivered as she surveyed the damage from Urbosa's balcony. Link’s senses were on such high-alert that he wouldn’t miss a single sensory input. “It might simply be mischievous…”

Link knew she wanted to believe that, so he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The food stalls were overturned and stripped clean of anything remotely edible. Debris cluttered the plaza: everything from doors clawed off their hinges to disemboweled mattresses to broken bottles. The decapitated head of a Voe dummy smiled dead-eyed up at him.

A heavy blue paw crumpled the smiley face into a frown to hold it still while huge fangs eviscerated stuffing out from the back of the canvas scalp.

Dread settled in Zelda’s stomach as she hurriedly dressed and snapped the slate into its holster. The creature didn’t seem to be having much fun. It spat the inedible stuffing out and paced anxiously. Easily the size of a horse, it only had the space of a few strides to move in the plaza before it whipped back around. The sound coming from the creature was stressed and demanding.

“It’s… hungry,” Zelda murmured. Link nodded. They watched the predator scent the air. Its tail twitched. When Kittee’s ears swiveled to lock onto them, the Hylians froze. Tigrine eyes stared unblinkingly back at them from across the distance.

Link should have sought out a Gerudo spear or a scimitar when he had the chance.

The feline stalked forward to the stairs leading to the throne room, then hunched down, honed and predacious. 

"Um... what is it-- Ah!" Both wheeled back as the rippling mass of muscle below launched up onto the stone ledge before them. “Link!” Zelda cried as he pushed her behind him. Claws the length of Link’s fingers crunched into the stucco like grappling hooks. The enormous predator perched on the banister before them like a corvid omen.

It stared at them with thirsty teeth.

That low snarl continued to rumble with every breath it took.

Behind Link’s defensive stance, Zelda anxiously peered over his coiled shoulders. “Kittee…?” she hedged. The creature’s flattened ears twitched but did not swivel towards her voice as they had in the throne room. The feline stared with dilated pupils, expression lost in translation between species. Zelda watched Kittee’s gaunt, protruding ribcage flutter under some unseen strain. The glowing golden tail whipped erratically behind it.

It looked like it was trying to decide something.

The sound deep in its throat held a note of sorrow to it as it switched attention back and forth between its two Hylian friends.

A change in expression: eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched, claws tightened, and they knew. It had finally made up its mind.

Link was right; It's not their friend anymore.

The Kittee charged with paws extended and maw splayed directly at Link. The knight strafed to the side just fast enough to miss the unstoppable weight of the creature. Jaws closed around nothing. It hissed at the sharp jab of the torch into its side. “Zelda! Hide in your room and lock the door!” He backflipped, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a paw as the creature wheeled in too-tight circles after the knight.

Zelda shook in terror and forced herself to back away. What’s happening? Why is the Kittee attacking them all of a sudden? What had they done wrong? None of this makes sense!

“Go!” he boomed.

Zelda took off in a sprint down the stairs. The sudden movement made the creature’s pupils blow impossibly wide. Link’s stomach dropped as it shifted attention towards her, keen on wrapping its oar-sized paw around her waist. Link fisted the creature’s fur in one hand and pressed the burning torch to its flesh with the other. A rolling snarl fought with Zelda’s shriek as it let go, claws stuck on the fabric of the thin tank she wore.

With a rip of fabric, Zelda managed to escape while Link fended off the wild beast.

Eyes focused and blood coursing, Link engaged the roaring monster. Link saumersalted underneath the creature just in time to miss a spine-crushing pounce. The golden tail whipped around like a Lizalfos and Link jumped just high enough to avoid it. As he continued strafing, goading and deflecting and dodging attacks, he searched for weaknesses. It didn’t appear enraged in the way that a grizzlemaw would. The yellow eyes staring at him had a note of desperation that he’d seen in wolves that tried to pursue him even after he struck a warning blow.

Is it normal for its ribs to protrude like that?

Testing an idea, Link juked forward, a fakeout that caused the Kittee to crouch and lean away defensively. Link inspired some small degree of fear in it. He could work with that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Zelda shoved the lock into the doorjamb. The scimitar she pilfered shook in her hand. She could still see the curled fangs and ridged palate of the fearsome creature. The torches in her room crackled deafeningly; She couldn’t distinguish between memories of the fight from sounds of the fight in progress.

What happened? What had they done wrong? The Kittee has definitely grown, wouldn’t that mean that they’ve succeeded? Why are they being punished for fulfilling whatever the Unity Trials demanded of them?

Zelda paced her messy room. “Why has it become our enemy?” Zelda spoke aloud to herself, fingers in her matted hair. “We did everything correct, right? So why—” On habit alone, Zelda reached for the slate, as if it would provide the answers. The compendium entry of the creature hadn’t changed. The image of a terrified little creature cowering under the bed stared back at her.

The yellow eyes pierced through the camera and into her.

Had they even changed?

Zelda was startled from the beginnings of an idea by a sound outside the high window. She backed up against the door, scimitar extended. The Princess expected to see a paw shoved through the narrow opening, clawing at the space between them. Instead, Hylian legs hooked the sill and he rolled onto the stone floor with a bodily thud.

“Link!” Zelda cried, dropping the scimitar to kneel at his side. He was panting heavily, chest a mix of matte and gloss from sweat and coagulated blood. The Gerudo pants he wore were raked with stripes in the fabric. He didn’t have a weapon. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Torch broke,” he reported, out of breath.

That wasn’t near enough of an answer, but she just supported him while he recovered. Everything had gone eerily silent outside. “Did you-- Is it—”

“It’s alive.”

“I don’t understand why this is happening,” says Zelda. “It grew. That means we did the right thing!”

Link pursed his lips, whether in thought or in pain Zelda couldn’t tell. He gently shrugged her off and made to sit on his own. “Maybe we’re supposed to kill it.”

The Major Test of Trust requires that they kill a starving creature in self-defense? Those two ideas bump. However, Zelda was too shaken to come to any passionate defense of the creature right away. “It doesn’t… feel right.”

Link’s nostrils flared, but he was otherwise neutral. Attentive, focused, he continued to scan for danger. “Even if we aren’t meant to kill it, we will eventually starve down here if we don’t. It ate all of the food in Gerudo Town.”

Zelda sat heavily on the side of her bed, chin in her hands. “These are the Trials of Unity. If the Kittee represents our progress through the trials, then wouldn’t killing the Kittee result in disqualification?”

“Or the end of the trials.”

Zelda hissed beneath her breath. “Killing it has nothing to do with trust!”

Link was fastidiously neutral in the same way that the scimitar was neutral: It knew its purpose but didn’t necessarily take joy in it. “If we aren’t presented with any other choices, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed viciously at him. She knew that wasn’t strictly speaking true; He wouldn’t do _anything_. Link had proved that in the Trial of Faith, and he repeated it dogmatically throughout Gerudo Town. Why doesn’t he feel remorse about this?

More to the point, why _does_ Zelda feel so awful about this?

“Zelda. It’s trying to eat us. It’s another monster now. Your friend is gone.”

Something about the way he said that—caught between placating and firm—had her hackles raised. “Don’t talk down to me,” she snapped. “Aren’t you the least bit confused as to why this is happening _now_ of all times?”

Link’s lip curled imperceptibly. “Incredibly,” he growled, “I am just as confused as you are. I would rather be confused and _alive_ than certain and dead.”

“Yeah? And if that doesn’t satisfy the riddle? Would we be any less starved to death?” she leaned forward menacingly.

“Zelda. Why are you defending it?”

“Why is it trying to kill us after you gave me what I wanted?” Zelda’s voice was much louder than she’d intended it and Link recoiled. “You tried to convince me that I’m worthy and—And then this. Right after. It’s grown and is suddenly starving. Why?”

Stunned silence was his only answer.

Zelda barreled on. “You were wrong. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong… Is this all just some twisted allegory designed to teach me to kill what I love? Curse these trials. Curse the Goddesses and curse their arbitrary tasks!”

There was no keeping up. Link couldn’t begin to grasp at what she was trying to express, so he grasped her arms instead. “Wait, Zelda, slow down. What do you mean ‘kill what you love’? What are you talking about?”

“It’s cruel,” she shivered, “I’m given something I care about only to have it taken away at the end.” Link blinked at her. Was she still talking about the Kittee? “I—You made me feel worthy then what was once safe suddenly isn’t. Just another beast to slay.”

“Zelda, I—” Link wanted to comfort her, to find the right words, but no such thing existed. She was right: These trials are incredibly unfair and cruel. Why fate selected her to carry the blood of the Goddess is no less arbitrary or heartless. “I don’t want to kill it, either.”

Zelda shook her hair in frustration that he just wasn’t getting it. Something set in her eyes like emerald enamel. Zelda stared back into his eyes and after several heartbeats said, “Then don’t.” She watched the harping on his heartstrings play on his face; Zelda was the neutral one now. “I mean it. You refused to use me in the Trial of Faith because it was wrong. Refuse this now because it is wrong. It’s wrong to force us to build a relationship with that creature only to cut it down. It’s scared, it’s hungry, and we’re the ones that made it that way.”

He knew she wasn’t just talking about the Kittee. “Zelda…” Link was about to list more pragmatic reasons that this was their only choice, that this is distinctly different than the Trial of Faith, but the sound of claws scratching at the reinforced door stopped him.

Zelda didn’t even flinch. “’We’re more than just our titles.’ That’s what you said to me in Hebra. I’m tired of being a pawn of destiny. I’m not going to play this game of Theirs anymore. If I’m wrong, at least we can throw a wrench in Their cursed cycles.”

The door rattled so hard that a potted plant fell from its display in the wall.

Link clutched the scimitar without even realizing he’d grabbed it. “It’s my duty to protect you. I can’t let anything hurt you. You can’t ask me to just let it—”

“I can and I am. If I’m understanding these trials right, I’m being forced to love something and then watch it die. I refuse to give in to that destiny.”

He stared hard at her. What was she saying? “Forced to love something,” he echoed flatly.

Taken aback by his tone, Zelda blinked up at him.

Link narrowed his eyes back at her and said nothing for several eternities. They listened to the scratching on the other side of the door soften. The muffled roars were high, tense, and desperate.

He considered saying something that would have done nothing to diffuse the tension but stopped because an idea occurred to him: Maybe she’s right.

_“I didn’t feel threatened by it.”_

_“There must be a kinder approach to this.”_

_“It didn’t look like it had intent to harm.”_

_The path home is found… when one is nurturing._

Defeating the creature requires no trust, much less a major test of it. He remembered the wary expression it gave him when he fed it roasted meat in Faron, or the uneasy way it stared at him from across the fire, the anxiety in the trashed throne room.

“This means that the Major Test of Trust… I don’t think it only has to do with you and me.”

What does that mean? Zelda’s mind finally had a new piece of the puzzle to chew on, rather than just gnawing on itself. She cocked her head at him. These are the Unity Trials, apparently all about uniting Hero and Princess. Of course it had to do with them! At her expression, he chose to elaborate, “We’ve been earning the trust of the Kittee while it earned ours. Maybe the Major Test is trusting it not to…”

“Devour us,” Zelda finished helpfully. Zelda tapped her chin, anxieties masticating the puzzle. “That would definitely qualify as a Major Test of Trust. However… does that imply that the Kittee is more than just a reflection of our progress?”

Link shrugged unhelpfully. Having to kill it to achieve a win-state had the same implication, but this felt closer to plausible. Zelda’s mind stared into the logical rabbit-hole that she just didn’t have time to contemplate.

“It sounds like it’s in pain… Just as we have to trust it, don’t we have to make Kittee trust us, too?” Link nodded at the impossible task.

Cogs in her mind visibly turned behind her eyes. Zelda was so close—so close to grasping onto that evasive _something_ she felt she missed. Like hearing koroks without ever finding them. The animal complained a softer, more subdued noise on the other side of the door.

It felt wrong in her heart to hurt it. If the Goddesses are just trying to teach her some sick lesson about letting go of what she loves for the sake of destiny, then the Goddesses are in for a rude awakening. They’ve got the wrong Princess if they think she’ll do that.

Link watched her. Zelda wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for.

With her mind made up, Zelda nodded resolutely back at him. “So, it is decided then. Let’s open the door.”

Zelda could have sworn she saw a question flash past his eyes. Instead of ask it, he stood and turned to do as he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! I've had a crazy couple of weeks.  
I am so touched by all of your encouragement and feedback ;w; Thank you for being the best readers ever.


	28. Uncanny

~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything in Link’s body told him not to. Still, despite every nerve ending fighting him, he undid the deadbolt on the door. His hand hesitated on the handle, listening. Zelda didn’t make a sound. Nothing did. Silence turned up the volume of his heartbeat in his ears.

Link set his shoulders, took a breath, and opened the door.

Zelda’s gasped as she took in the creature from behind Link’s protective stance.

Crumpled on the floor lay the creature, half-collapsed on its side. It was alive, breathing in unsteady rhythms. The wounded animal winced at the flood of firelight and struggled to stand on all fours. It wavered on unsteady paws with fangs flared defensively. Injuries blotted out the weak blue glow in patches of coagulated indigo blood. Unfocused eyes stared forward at nothing at first until it managed to constrict its pupils enough to recognize it wasn’t alone but didn’t seem to recognize them as its Hylians.

It was considerably smaller than when Link fled.

Zelda peeked around the Hylian barricade of Link’s shoulders, “It’s wounded.”

Kittee held its head low and tail high, watching the Hylians with blurred vision. The sound it made was weaker and its breathing came out in labored huffs.

Link stared down the creature bravely, making no move to attack but not extending trust either. Even considerably smaller, even injured, he saw how those golden claws left trenches in the sandstone from the stress in its paws, remembered the crunching of bones between its jaws. Splinters from the door were littered like a sparse terrarium floor.

Neither made a move in the stagnant, tense stillness.

Zelda gently touched Link’s right arm, the one tensed with scimitar in hand, and gently moved to uncurl his fingers from around it. _This isn’t going to help us,_ Zelda pleaded up at him until finally, finally he sighed and forced each joint to unlatch from the grip. Two anxious sets of eyes watched as Zelda gently extricated the scimitar from Link and braved one, two steps forward.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” rasps Zelda gently. The creature flared its fangs and crouched lower, tail swishing back and forth, and it took everything inside Link not to rush forward at the sound of that warning snarl. Zelda only crouched down, “We know you don’t want to hurt us either.”

Understanding didn’t register in its eyes, her language lost in translation between species. However, her tone and slow motions at least let its mouth close and growl soften. Zelda turned the scimitar hilt-first toward the creature and gently set it on the floor between them.

“We want to help. But the only way for us to do that is if there is mutual trust.”

The creature continued to stare forward with that piercing tigrine stare, and Link resisted the raising of his own hackles for fear of breaking whatever spell Zelda cast. It didn’t relax, but its ears shifted forward to her, listening.

“Why are you so starved? Did we neglect to do something?” Zelda sat on her ankles, fighting the sensation of vulnerability before the hungry predator. “Perhaps your needs grow when you do?” Zelda seemed to realize something, and a sadness glinted in her eyes, “We were so focused on the trial, we failed to realize that you have needs too, don’t you? I’m sorry, Kittee.”

The creature’s tail slowed in its agitated twitching. Even if it didn’t understand the meaning of her words, it seemed soothed by Zelda’s soft, regal voice. She knew better than to fall quiet now.

“Perhaps… to some degree, I kept myself from becoming too preoccupied with you. Because I knew that once these trials were over, I would be forced to say goodbye. I made effort not to grow too attached. By focusing on the trials themselves, I neglected to realize the impact of my actions—or rather, my inactions— on you.”

Something about the way she said that made Link’s heart twist painfully.

“It all seems so cruel. Perhaps I am still bitter towards the Goddesses. Why wait to let me grow attached to something, just to take it away? Why set me up for failure? I want to resist that. To resist them, my destiny, my fate. And now you’re hurt because of it.”

The Kittee relaxed in its crouch, sentient eyes watching her carefully.

“The stronger you grow, the more it takes to sustain you. Is that…right?” Zelda’s voice trailed off as she heard the words on her own lips. The beginnings of a realization were just in her periphery. “The stronger you are, the more you… need. Is it a coincidence that you experience this intense hunger right after…?” Zelda’s eyebrows furrowed, and Link watched her hands clasp in her lap until they were white. Realization seemed to hit her, and she turned to stare up at Link.

The look in her eye did something to his heart that would kill a lesser person.

“…After Link gave me what I needed.” The princess was thinking, furiously tenderizing an idea into something soft enough to chew. “Link, I figured it out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

They had been wrong. Well, at least, not completely right.

“What?” blinked Link, surprised enough to momentarily forget the predator in the room.

The faraway look in Zelda’s eyes indicated that she was on to something, something she was more eager to pursue than to explain.

Testing a theory, Zelda extended her hand and shuffled closer to the wary feline. Both it and Link’s anxiety pulsed through the room, but Zelda had a feeling that if this works, they’d understand the mechanics of this place better. She unlatched the Sheikah slate from its holster on her thigh and slid it over to him. “Take a picture, then look away.”

Perplexed, Link did as he was told. The slate clicked as it rendered the moment into a still frame: Zelda reaching out to an anxious, wounded animal.

Behind his eyelids, all of his other senses strained against the confines of sightlessness. That low warning growl agitated his adrenaline, but Zelda’s soft voice doused it. Claws on stone, her soft rustle of fabric, a soft chuff.

Link held his breath until his lungs convulsed.

When he opened his eyes, Zelda’s outstretched hand rested in the soft ruff of the Kittee’s chest. It rasped quietly with each breath, the closest sound to a purr it could produce.

“Has there been a change?” Unsure what he was looking for, Link scrutinized it, then the image on the slate for differences. To his surprise he found that, yes, there was change: It had grown. Subtle, but enough to notice when he looked. Link nodded, noting the change in luster of the fur, the beginnings of fur in gnarled burnt patches of skin, the reformed glint of once-broken whiskers.

Link and Zelda had sparsely interacted. What could have caused the change?

Zelda was way ahead of him, ecstatic at her new discovery. “Its hunger is not for food,” Zelda beams as she gently scratches along the column of the Kittee’s muscular throat. The creature’s eyes blink weightily, but it seems too wary of Link’s stare to enjoy the attentions.

“Huh?”

It was as if Link wasn’t even there to her. Her thoughts were much too occupied, her excitement much too palatable, for her to slow down to explain any of this to Link. “Come now, sweet creature. Can you stand?” She directed the animal by lifting it, which earned her a warning flash of fangs. Fear no longer coursed through her at the sight, because she understood the meaning. “I’ll stop when you do so on your own, then,” Zelda quipped.

Then, to Link, she says, “It only grows when we aren’t looking at it, right? When we don’t notice it. What if we’ve been attributing the wrong causes to its growth? Correlation does not necessarily equal causation.”

In one ear and out the other, based on the expression on Link’s face.

Zelda captivated the attention of both Hylian and Kittee as she rose to her feet and patted her thigh invitingly. “Come on,” she smiled, “Let’s move on to Vah Naboris.”

Link watched in awe as the creature dipped its head to nose under her hand and followed at her side.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sand shifted under his feet as he trailed behind the glowing apparition and Zelda. As Zelda led the way through the featureless Gerudo desert, she prattled on about her affection to the Kittee. Mostly, Zelda was talking nonsense that didn’t seem pertinent to the trial, or her thought process, or how she’d managed to tame a wild monster with her voice and touch alone. Said monster seemed just as content to listen.

In the same way she intuited how to intervene in Link’s anxiety attack, she seemed to intuit whatever the creature needed to have its kindness restored. Link was left just as confused as to her machinations now as he had been when she interrupted his spiraling.

Link’s mind wheeled to catch up, but it was just spinning tires.

Every now and again, the Kittee would remember Link trailing some distance behind them and stop to pierce him with an unblinking stare.

Wasn’t it just hunting them? Link’s skin still burned from the slice of its claws along his torso. Zelda’s mostly-dry tank top was split midway down the back from when the creature tried to apprehend her. Yet the Princess spoke gently, moved naturally, as if none of this had happened. She knew something he didn’t, and Link felt uncharacteristically slow on the uptake.

Zelda turned her stare away from the towering shadow of Vah Naboris in the distance to glance back at Link. He was staring into the back of her skull, awash with all of the questions she hadn’t answered.

_Please explain._

In lieu of an answer, she pulled her unused hairtie from her wrist and dangled it to get the Kittee’s attention. Zelda giggled as its pupils dilated and she sling-shot the band out into desert. Sand plumed as the Kittee pounced after its tiny prey, searching.

It gave Link the space needed to come up to Zelda’s side. She was in such a positively radiant mood that he couldn’t help the second-hand warmth coming from her. “It isn’t dangerous. Or, well, it is, but it won’t harm us,” Zelda corrected. “Yes, it’s a reflection of our progress in the trials. However, I think there is more to it than that. Its needs are directly impacted by—” Zelda’s voice got caught, and she completed royally, “Ours.”

Link’s eyes narrowed in thought. “So, the fact that it was starving right after…”

_That empty feeling. Like taking food out of the stomach of a starving man._

_Feels wrong to have me attached to something only to take it away when I’ve succeeded._

_You’re worthy._

Link began to think he may understand the correlation she’s drawing.

The Kittee bounded back to Zelda, hairband in its mouth. Kittee eyed Link warily, but still came up to walk beside Zelda and deposit the makeshift toy in her palm. Zelda snapped it off of her thumb, and away the creature dashed to find it once again.

Link swallowed the discomfort in his throat. “Okay… so, our needs are tied to it. What does that have to do with it growing?”

Zelda shook out her hair, finding the abstracts in her mind difficult to word. “This trial is a Major Test of Trust, right? What if the goal was to get it to trust us as much as we trust each other? I keep coming back to my original question from before: Why have the Unity Trials at all? What is the _purpose_ of this?”

Link wasn’t sure if that was rhetorical or not, so he tried, “To unite the Hero and the Princess.”

“Okay, but _why_?” Zelda insisted.

Link pursed his lips thoughtfully. Zelda’s theory on Mipha’s power coming from a love of Link wasn’t exactly watertight when applied to this context. However, it seemed it was the best they’ve got for the time being. “To help you gain access to your powers.”

Zelda scrunched her face as though she only partly agreed. “I think it’s trying to convince us that we’re stronger together than apart using the Kittee as a reflection of us.” Link paused in his trudging through the sand to process that. He watched, disassociated from his own body, as the creature cavorted over to Zelda, received a face pat, and then chased after the flung hairband again.

“A… reflection of us?”

Zelda folded her hands in front of herself shyly. A tiny sound in the affirmative escaped her throat. Link wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, so he waited for her to elaborate. “I… realized it when I was soothing the scared creature outside my bedroom. I said I was hesitant to become attached, because I knew I would have to say goodbye when the trial was over. I asked why the Goddess would set me up for failure like that. I saw that the stronger it became, the more it needed to sustain it. When ignored, the creature was… dangerous.

At the look in her eye, Link felt his organs slide uselessly into his feet.

“The parallels were rather… uncanny.”

Link stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop walking. Hesitantly, Zelda’s eyes panned up to meet his intense stare. Somehow, without stars above, his eyes still managed to reflect them.

An eternity passed in the space of a few heartbeats.

He looked like he was going to say something, when the feline returned, hairband in mouth. Without either of them noticing, it had steadily grown and stood taller than Zelda at the shoulder. It eyed the knight with distrust, clearly disliking his proximity to her, just as Link did to it.

Zelda held out her palm and closed it around the hairband.

Link watched the silent interaction with a new set of eyes. If the Kittee is a reflection of him and Zelda… only growing when they don’t notice, requiring more effort the stronger it gets, gaining power the more they tend it, then that means…

Zelda’s gentle voice startled him from his thoughts. “Link, give it a chance.”

The creature stared at him unblinkingly, dwarfing Zelda as it loomed over her protectively. All of the previous injuries Link had inflicted upon it were healed, closed without the Hylians' notice. Still present, but not impeding the predator’s imposing ability to rend them limb from limb in the slightest. Still, it only watched him, waiting for him to make a decision.

Give it a chance.

Zelda could see him sizing them up the way he would an enemy encampment. A low growl came from the Kittee's throat, and Zelda silenced it with a hand on its pelt. Anxiously, the animal watched him as Link thought through his options.

"Okay."


	29. Trial of Trust

~*~*~*~*~*~

Zelda feared that if she stepped between the creature and the Hylian, the crossfire of their stares would melt her. 

By the time Link’s eyes snapped to the slate on her hip, it was already too late.

He snatched the Sheikah slate from its holster. The sudden movement spooked the creature, but Link was faster.

Chains of time locked the creature into a golden statue, crouched and defensive and snarling. 

“Link!” Zelda barked in surprise, but it made no impact. Link had already made up his mind.

The Hylian gripped the feline’s scruff and hauled himself onto its back. Even crouched, it was not an easy mount, and Link’s effort came out in a resolute yell.

So much for establishing mutual trust!

Before Zelda could even process what she’d just seen, the golden chains surrounding the Kittee broke away and the feline collapsed onto its belly from the combined force on its back. Zelda watched the creature’s eyes bulge in surprise and was nearly deafened by the startled sound it made. 

Surprise turned to outrage in the Kittee’s eyes.

Zelda reeled back as the Kittee spun a tight, roaring circle so fast that she narrowly avoided being knocked unconscious by the bolas of its tail.

Adrenaline thrilled through his veins so fast it could be mistaken for joy. Link’s hips rolled expertly, one hand up for balance. He’s no stranger to taming wild horses. Other than the fact that it could do far more than just kick him, there’s not much difference, right?

“Whoa! Whoa, hey!” He soothed as best he could with his free hand as the creature back-peddaled, failing its head wildly. Link saw flashes of dagger-length fangs try and fail to reach him.

It didn’t behave like a horse! 

“Ah!” he cried, before he got a mouthful of sand. The creature rolled on its side, twisting and writhing like a four-legged snake. Zelda coughed and covered her eyes to protect from the plume of sand their tousle kicked up. The deafening sound of ferocious roars and Link’s soothing vocalizations and the rumbling of weight in the sand were Zelda’s only indication of where they were.

The dust settled just enough for Zelda to see the Kittee snap back to its belly. All fang and claw and muscle, the animal writhed every which way to dislodge the Hylian.

Next thing she knew, Link managed to get a hand behind its ear and say something quietly. 

Zelda watched in awe as the Kittee reared back, clawing the air, before landing on all fours.

It growled lowly, ears pinned, tail twitching in irritation. But to Zelda’s amazement the feline stood otherwise still, eyes sidelong to Link, listening as if waiting for instruction. Link leaned forward and murmured something to the creature that was either too soft for Zelda to hear or she was breathing too loudly to catch, or both.

Catching his breath, underlit from his glowing blue mount, Link’s features were cut in stunning relief. Link patted the creature’s neck and wore an effortless grin that made Zelda think she may never be cold again.

After some hesitation and wordless parleying, Zelda watched her knight cajole the predator into motion. When it strayed and balked, Link soothed and corrected. Gradually, through some magic between his heels and his voice and his hands, Hylian and feline managed to form a language and understanding. 

Zelda realized that she forgot to breathe.

Link guided the creature to Zelda and outstretched his hand. Mouth agape, Zelda stared at his hand, mystified, and absently extended her own. The very next moment, Link hauled her weight up onto their mythical mount and steadied her by the hips.

Kittee swayed, unpracticed as a draught animal, before it adjusted to Zelda’s weight.

So this was Link’s idea of giving it a chance.

She glanced over her shoulder to make eye contact with Link. His blue eyes reflected his own triumph and the turquoise light so brilliantly they nearly glowed in the dark.

“When I said ‘give it a chance,’ this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind...” Zelda anxiously gripped the Kittee’s thick scruff. Link only laughed and shook his head. His gentle kick asked the creature to walk, which had Zelda hunched and searching for balance. 

It certainly didn’t have the gait of a horse either! Awkward, sloping, slinking, and jarring. Link’s arms on either of her sides caged her in and were the only reason she didn’t fall. “This creature’s anatomical makeup is ill-suited to being a mount,” complained Zelda haltingly.

Link chuckled quietly in her ear and shrugged.

The Hylians soon got the hang of the uncommon rhythm with every passing stride.

Once Zelda felt secure enough, tucked between Link’s arms and hips rolling in sync with their mount, the awe and wonder of the moment overtook her. She thought she heard the tinkling of bells, and the whisper of paws in the sand sounded as if they were in the bottom of the seabed. Link's warm breath, too, sounded underwater.

Link felt Zelda’s thumb brush over his hand.

Zelda smiled an unknowable smile. Link exhaled, feeling warmth bubble up in his chest.

“Ready?”

Zelda nodded, and Link kicked the creature’s side encouragingly.

Wind rushed through their hair and sand plumed behind them with every long stride the Kittee took. Its canter was halting, flexible spine coiling and uncoiling as if spring-loaded. Glittering blue reflected off the sand, and for a moment Zelda could have sworn they were running on water.

It was deja vu. Just like falling into the void in the Trial of Faith, or swimming from platform to platform to reach the Gerudo desert.

It was so loud, all was quiet; It was so fast, all was still.

Hero and Princess, adrift in time and space, washed in Sheikah-blue.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The shadow of Vah Naboris loomed ever-higher until eventually it blocked the sourceless moonlight. Link pulled the Kittee back from its canter. Zelda stared straight up at the Divine Beast contoured in light against the void.

Even upon their giant mount, Zelda retained serious doubts that the beast could get them high enough to reach the terminals. Vah Naboris’s hoof alone absolutely dwarfed the Kittee; There is simply no way their mount could make such a leap.

Kittee’s raspy pants heaved its chest between their knees, so Link pulled it back to a full stop and let the feline catch its breath. Link’s eyes were narrowed, focused, assessing. One glance over her shoulder and Zelda knew he was thinking the same thing: _ Not enough._

The Kittee stared straight up and whined anxiously. It, too, was daunted.

Had Zelda been too hasty in moving on to Vah Naboris?

No, she reminded herself, she wasn't. Its hunger wasn't for food, it was for trust. Zelda just had to trust that they could do this.

Zelda leaned forward to stroke the side of the Kittee’s neck. “You’ve done such a superb job, are you aware of this?” Zelda cooes. Link felt the rumbling of what was intended as a purr but came out as a happy growl. “I’m certain that whatever obstacle you are to face next, you will overcome it.” 

Kittee's tail curled above them at the praise. Link reached up and let the soft golden leaves slip through his fingers. Was it his imagination, or was the sand glowing brighter?

Zelda lay over the creature’s neck to scratch it behind the ears. “If you’ve caught your breath, I believe we are ready to move on.”

Even without fluency in the language, the creature cocked its head and seemed to pick up on the cue. It eyed the Hylians over its shoulder, finding no objection in Link, and then sniffed around the foot of the Divine Beast. 

It reared, testing the hoof for some unseen quality. Zelda’s breath was pressed out of her as Link flattened himself to the neck of the creature to keep from falling. Whatever it was looking for, the Kittee seemed to locate it, then wiggled its haunches in calculation.

Both Hylians yelped as they were catapulted vertically into the air.

Zelda’s stomach dropped as the sand floor shot dizzyingly far away in the very next moment. Both clutched on desperately to the creature’s scruff as their hips no longer had contact with their mount.

Any chance of maintaining that grip was lost when the Kittee’s claws screeched down the side of Vah Naboris’s leg.

The sudden stop dislodged their grips.

Link’s cry and Zelda’s shriek were torn from them as they plummeted.

The blue glow became smaller and smaller.

Link clutched desperately for a parasail he didn’t have. The desert swallowed them.

Finally, two plumes of sand shot up into the air.

Zelda wheezed and tried to get her knocked breath back into her lungs. Link spat out a glob of course sediment and scraped his tongue. They were lucky this took place in the desert… and that there weren’t any cacti around.

“Princess, are you okay?” Link finally managed.

Zelda moaned a light complaint, but answered, “I’m unharmed.” She stood, brushing herself off, “Though, I’m not sure how exactly we are expected to holdfast to the Kittee on a sheer climb.” They watched the blue spec keen this way and that before rotating its grip on the Divine Beast and kick itself away.

It landed silently some distance away, watching them intently.

The creature’s claws seem to give it the ability to find purchase on an otherwise handhold-free surface. Perhaps it can actually scale Vah Naboris as is, but staying on their mount seemed near impossible. The ridged overhanging rings on the legs of Vah Naboris meant that there could be no steady climb; The creature had to dig in hind claws and launch to gain any progress. 

Where the legs meet the body of the Divine Beast, the Kittee would have to hold itself nearly upside down.

Even a skilled horseman like Link couldn’t expect to maintain hold by himself, let alone ensuring the Princess does so as well.

Link sighed and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. They were so close, and yet so far.

Zelda absently stroked the Kittee’s ruff, lost in her own train of thought. “Perhaps it will come with practice.” A rather optimistic take, but one Link didn’t rebuff. 

Zelda busily eyed the creature for a way to mount and try again. Link was about to give her a leg-up but stopped at the glint of gold-blue fangs parting wide enough to easily wrap around Zelda’s torso.

Alarm and anger boiled Link’s blood.

“Hey!” he barked.

Link’s voice had both Princess and Kittee taken aback, spooked.

Scolded, the creature flattened its ears and stared back at Link. Link held his finger out to it in warning. 

Zelda stared back and forth between them, putting together the missing pieces. Then, just as fast as it began, moment was over. Link knelt at the Kittee’s side and gave Zelda a leg up onto the docile creature’s back. 

“Did you… have intent to hurt me?” She says to the back of the Kittee’s head. It’s ear swiveled, and Zelda got the distant sense that it was annoyed, but didn’t receive an answer.

“I’m not going to give it an opportunity,” Link says, settling behind her. He soothes his mount, curls his hands in its scruff, and gently urges it to try again.

~*~*~*~*~*~

And again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again.

Zelda had become quite the proficient faller. Each collision with the sand hurt a little less than the last, except for the sting of disappointment.

They tried this until Vah Naboris’s leg had a new text carved into it, all comprised of claw-mark letters. 

With a groan, Zelda sat up and pressed against her rising headache. The Kittee kicked off of Vah Naboris to land silently near them. It managed to sniff at its Hylians to make sure they were okay, before it flopped on its side to pant heavily.

“This isn’t working,” Zelda says to no one. No one confirms, because they didn't have to. Link was an adept climber of mountains, but at least mountains stay still. No combination was fruitful. Link was unsuccessful by himself and she’d barely made it off the ground alone. 

Zelda glared at the creature huffing on its side, “If you are meant to be a reflection of Link and I, why are you so impossible to keep grips on?”

At her petulant mumbling, the Kittee just flicked its tail. _ Don’t care. Too tired. _

Link stood, dusted himself off, and rolled his shoulders like he was going to try again. However, when he extended his hand to help Zelda up, she didn’t take it. She remained seated in the sand, looking up at their impossible rendezvous point. 

She looked so tired and world-eaten.

Link knelt at her side, eyes searching hers for thoughts. Zelda felt him, but didn’t acknowledge him. Finally, a sardonic smile found its way to her face, “It really is a mirror of us. It’s as tired as we are.”

Link stares at the creature, then back to Zelda. “We can go back. Maybe it just needs to grow more.”

Zelda scrunched up her face thoughtfully. “Mm… It grows when trust is built and shrinks when trust is broken. That can be done here, right?”

Link's face did some sort of expression gymnastics, then schooled back into neutrality. He curled his nose and eyed the sand like it may bite him. "I... don't think the desert is suitable for that." 

"Huh? Why not?"

Link gave her a look caught between abhorrence and fear. "Zelda..." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, "Consider the logistics."

_Logistics of what? _The princess blinked back at him, completely nonplussed. What is he on about? Zelda noted the way that his ears turned red and he didn't quite make eye contact with her. 

Oh.

"That isn't what I was referring to, Link," she deadpanned, and pushed his shoulder. The knight nearly lost his balance on the balls of his feet. Zelda pointedly did _not_ consider the logistics of sand being involved in whatever he was thinking she meant. "I meant, by reinforcing positive behavior in the Kittee, we can build more trust with it."

Link's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "So... you don't think you and I have to--"

"Goodness, no, I should hope not!" Zelda was suddenly hyper-aware of the course sand sticking to any exposed bit of her skin. That sounds like a recipe for two very unhappy Hylians. She was thankfully pulled out of that particular thread of thought by Link's quirked eyebrow. "What?"

Link's arms gestured wide, a silent question. _You do know what that means, right?_

Zelda's eyes narrowed skeptically. No, in fact, she didn't. 

"Okay. If not that, then... what actually makes it grow?"

It felt like he was leading to some kind of point. Zelda wasn't sure why this was dressed like a trap. Hesitantly, she answered, "You and me trusting each other, and then getting the Kittee to match us." Link was quiet, waiting for her to unravel herself with her own cursed habit of restless talking. "There is no need to build more between you and I, right? We've already done all of-- There isn't much else that you and I haven't--"

Link looked squeamish. 

Dread settled in Zelda's gut as she finally caught what he was implying.

What if the trial actually wasn't calling for any of _that?_

After all, aren't there more ways than one to build trust?

"Wait, you don't think..." Zelda felt a firewall flare up in her frontal cortex. It's like that train of thought ate itself out of existence like an ouroboros. She shook her hair out and squared her shoulders, "This is a different circumstance entirely. Our previous success is the only reason we have arrived here."

"Right," Link, ever-neutral.

"Right?"

"Of course."

"Naturally."

Zelda ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated. Though, being totally honest with herself, she knew that she had felt she was missing something. Something obvious and simple.

Obvious and simple: The trial was just asking them to trust each other. They filled in the rest.

Defeatism got the best of Zelda and she sighed miserably. “But it made so much sense at the time.”

Link bared his teeth in a grimace.

“Getting what you gave. It wasn’t-”

“It’s one way to do it.” Link answered too quickly and his voice cracks, “We might have… misunderstood the trial.”

"Or we may very well have guessed right."

Link shrugged, _Maybe a little of both?_

Silence hung thick and humid between them, contrasting the desert.

Link cleared his throat louder than a bomb.

Even the Kittee looked uncomfortable.

"So then..." Link begins, then stops.

Zelda swallowed and braided the ends of her hair. It is one thing to succeed in a shrine, it is quite another to not know _why_ or _how _she succeeded. It's a poorly designed experiment with no control groups or consistent outcomes!

_Link grinding the heel of his hand against his trousers, biting his fist.  
_ _Fireworks on his face, bees without stingers.  
_ _His chin and chest glistening.  
_ _Major test of Trust, Link.  
_ _Don’t you dare. Not yet. I know you can do it.  
_ _Is this what you wanted?  
_ _Pressing her face into the mattress._  
_You’re worthy.  
_ _The second setting._

Is it true that the trial didn’t actually require any of that specifically?

Zelda felt that same self-disgust as she did back in the Trial of Faith gnawing her stomach. She had solicited him, even though the trial actually didn’t demand anything sexual in nature! Zelda groaned and buried her face in her arms. How could she be so idiotic? So single-minded in her mission to reach the Spring that she ended up, in fact, being the one to make Link feel forced into touching her.

It wasn’t the Goddesses or some Monk forcing them, it was _ her _. Zelda was so repulsed by herself, she feared she’d never get clean again.

Link raked his nails through his scalp so hard she heard it.

He wanted to say something to her, but he already felt so stupid that he believed anything to come from him wasn’t worth the breath it takes to say it.

Zelda sat up and huffed her hair out of her eye. Perseverance glinted in them as she forced herself to think forward instead of backwards. “Okay. So, then.” She stiffened her spine and spoke royally, “Logically, that means that you and I just have to find a way to trust each other more, and we can get to Vah Naboris.”

Link managed to meet her eye. “Do you have any ideas?”

Zelda’s eyes softened, and she shook her head. It’s a miracle that they managed to fail upwards to get to this point. Now, faced with more clarity in her mission, she somehow feels even more lost. You don’t just _ trust more _ at will. That’s not how that works.

Link sat at her side, not quite touching. He watched the rippling hackles of the Kittee calm down in real-time to their emotions.

For a while, they brainstormed to the backdrop of each other’s breathing.

Zelda’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, and she broke the silence. “The creature, when it was starving…” she began, drawing Link’s intense gaze. “Was it solely placed in that state because of how much I-- because of my mind-state?”

Link heard the words she didn’t say: _ Need _ and _ Worthy _ and some combination therein.

He swallowed and stared forward, face unreadable even to Zelda. “I’m… not sure,” he answered honestly. He recalled the feeling he woke up with, that feeling of emptiness, of dread. How he kept hearing Zelda lament the inevitable loss once the trials were over.

“Though…” Link continued when Zelda finally thought he was finished, “I guess I couldn’t have helped. It’s influenced by both of us.” He swallowed, struggling. “What I woke up with wasn’t far off from the feeling of realizing I was starving.”

Zelda cast him a curious glance.

He withered under it, picking his words. “I can’t remember the last time I’d even received a hug… Then, suddenly, I wake up with you in my arms. I was so warm.” His fist clenched, as if what he was describing was something painful. Quietly, so quietly, he said to the sand, “Why did I feel so empty after?”

The Hero didn’t look very heroic. Small, confused, and starved.

Zelda thought she may have understood why.

She gently set her hand on his shoulder. “Having something and losing it hurts more than never having it at all.”

The way she said that implied she knew exactly what he felt.

Link chanced a glance up at her. Zelda’s gaze was softer than her touch.

For once, they could read each other’s minds.

_I'm scared too._

A question sparked in Link’s eyes, and he was about to ask it, when the soft sound of paws in the sand distracted them.

The Kittee approached slowly, deliberately, watching them. Intimidating in its focus, easily mistaken for predation. However, neither Link nor Zelda felt a direct threat as it considered them, whiskers twitching and ears forward.

“Kittee?” said Zelda’s soft voice.

It chuffed quietly.

The creature sidled to Link, nosing at his arm. Link pet the creature’s face but was interrupted by Kittee pushing him with its forehead. “Ah-- What?” Zelda made a noise as Link collided into her and then straightened. “Sorry. Hey, what’re you--”

Link was pushed again. Zelda felt a paw the size of her forearm wrap her waist, corralling her into Link. They nearly cracked skulls, despite how gentle the creature was trying to be with them. “Kittee!” protested Zelda. But the creature was insistent, trying to badger them onto their feet and against one another. Link grabbed Zelda’s shoulders to still her and keep them from crashing into each other.

Being so much stronger, it could easily have flung them violently into whatever position it wanted. Instead, it batted them with all the softness it could. Still, even knowing this, Link’s alarm center went off as the creature turned its massive head sideways and splayed open huge jaws. Sharp canines poked at his arm and the creature’s cool breath furled around them.

Link stiff-armed the creature’s nose on instinct. It growled, irritated, then tried again. Like it was trying to find a way to get a bite all the way around the both of them. “Knock it off,” Link commanded, standing protectively between Kittee and Zelda.

Zelda could have sworn for a moment that she saw the Kittee roll its eyes. With a snort, it plopped on its haunches, peeved. 

“Wait,” says Zelda behind him, “I don’t believe it is trying to harm us.” It seemed like it was trying to communicate, but continuously lost the message to a language barrier. At Zelda's attentive stare, it made eye contact with her, then seemed to have an idea.

To the Hylian's surprise, the feline picked up its own tail in its mouth and sat back down. It held the wriggling appendage harmlessly between its jaws and stared at them meaningfully.

Huh?

"...What?"

Kittee dropped its tail and roared at the black sky in frustration.

The feline nosed the center of Link’s chest and he leaned back until he felt Zelda. She would have stumbled back if not for the paw on the small of her back holding her still. 

It was trying to press them together?

Had it grown?

The Hylians stumbled, balance interrupted by the pushy creature until Link finally put his arms out. “Okay, okay! Hang on,” came his voice, loud and firm.

That at least got the creature to pause. It sat on its haunches, tail curled over its paws, watching.

They both sighed a breath of relief, then glanced at one another, asking questions the other couldn’t hear. _ What suddenly changed? What is it asking us to do? _

Zelda answered him with a soft laugh, a little discombobulated. “I’m not sure either. Why does it keep opening its mouth at us? Why does it want us so close together?”

Link shrugged, flustered. “The whole trial seems to be doing that.”

Zelda snorted. “So we thought.” Link gave her a look, and she amended, “Well. Sort of.”

They both turned to the Kittee, as if it would give them better instructions. Its golden tail flicked, annoyed and unhelpful. The Hylians sighed; Zelda brushed sand off of herself while Link smoothed down his hair. 

A thought occurred to Zelda, and she laughed quietly. Link quirked an eyebrow at her, and Zelda answered freely, “I wonder-- It’s something you just said. That you don’t know the last time you had a hug? I can’t remember when I last received one either.” Link nodded. “Is that what the Kittee is asking?”

Link’s brows furrowed, bewildered. Why does she find that so funny? 

“Uh, maybe?” This, somehow, only made her laugh harder. The sound was high and tinkling, fun like a korok. _ What are you on about? _asked Link without words, arms crossed. 

“You know what else that sounds like?” She suppressed her laughter to the best of her ability. Which is to say, not at all. Link made a gesture at her asking for the answer. She eyed him meaningfully, “‘Courage to give, vulnerability to receive.’” 

Confusion littered Link’s expression. What does that have to do with-- Wasn’t that the riddle from the Hot Spring trial? His expression seemed to only amuse her further. What does a hug have to do with ‘courage to give, vulnerability to receive’?

Wait.

Oh.

_ Oh, fuck. He’s such an idiot. _

Link hissed and facepalmed, and Zelda had to hold her sides against her own mirth. If he wasn’t hearing the Knight and the Hero shouting in his ear, he could have laughed along with her.

A hug probably would’ve satisfied the riddle in the hot springs.

“Can we just-- just focus on the present?” He blew out a longsuffering sigh.

“Yes, yes, sorry,” chirped Zelda. She gently sets her hand on his arm and turns him towards her. It felt a little strange under the watchful gaze of the giant glowing predator, but Zelda dropped her head into Link’s chest and rode out the last of her giggles. Link made a noise of surprise, hands hovering and not quite touching her.

He smelled like desert and sweat. Zelda wrapped her arms around him, willing herself to enjoy the scent, the moment, and to care less if it’s for the trials or not. 

After a moment, Link’s cheek rested on her head and he relaxed into her touch. 

Zelda smiled and murmured into his skin, “The closer we get to leaving, the less I want to.” She felt his soft huff, heard air in his lungs. In lieu of an answer, Link tightened his arms around her. 

Link hadn’t realized that the Gerudo desert had been so cold until he finally got warm.

“I know what you mean.”

Link watched the giant creature rise to its paws and sniff at the embracing Hylians. Resisting the urge to pull away from Zelda and defend them meant that Zelda was crushed against his chest. Her eyes opened, watching the creature size them up as one entity. 

At the flash of fangs, Link flinched.

The Kittee closed its mouth, watching them.

“Link…” Zelda whispers, sealing herself into his embrace. Her hand searched his back, found a knot, and distracted him with her fingers pressing it. “Let it. Major test of trust.”

He sighed, still tense. Then with a low shudder, he dropped his head to Zelda’s shoulder. Sharp canines explored them, never breaking skin, angling. Link felt a rough tongue on his arm, and Link clutched her closer. Its breath smelled like constant rains and the distant sound of tinkling bells reminded him of Blupees.

With one snap of its fangs, they would both be dead.

Their feet left the sand.

With the tenderness of a shewolf with her pups, Kittee carried the Hylians in the lightest grip. Link chanced opening his eyes to see sand moving beneath them, Zelda’s hair hanging at an angle. Her eyes clenched with every jolting step. Premolars poked harmlessly into his side.

The creature stopped, and they heard its breath as it sniffed at the leg of Vah Naboris. Nausea bubbled up in Link’s stomach at the movement of the creature’s head, and he knew it was preparing, considering, just as it had before.

They launched vertically. Zelda’s shriek was absorbed by Link’s chest. Claws on ancient material screamed through the Kittee’s skeleton, to its teeth, and through the Hylians. The strain of the animal’s effort compressed sharp teeth into their skin and breath from their lungs.

Eyes shut, wrapped in one another’s embrace, completely at the mercy of what is larger than them.

Wind and breathing and a magic aura and their heartbeats made everything sound like being underwater.

Hero and Princess clutched onto one another, afraid of being rent apart.

Adrift in time and space.

Once again, Link knew his only option was faith: Faith in the Goddess, in the Kittee, in Zelda, in himself. Faith they would be okay, faith she would be unharmed. 

Link closed his eyes,

And surrendered.


	30. Sunset

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Hylians were deposited without ceremony.

Link grunted as the teeth cradling them opened, dropping him into the dirt and Zelda on top of his chest.  
  
“Mmmph… ow,” she moaned quietly, rubbing her neck. Even with her eyes closed, they hurt from the brightness all around them. She pressed her palms over them to quell the needle-point pain in her pupils. “Link? Are you okay?”

Link coughed next to her. “Mmgood,” he croaked.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the panging brightness, he groaned and forced them open. Through the rainbows on his eyelashes, he couldn’t see anything but bright blue. Two suns stared down at him.

Wait, no, not suns. Two golden eyes of the Kittee, backdropped by blue skies of the same color. The creature panted happily over him, tail swishing back and forth like a giant mythical puppy.

Link somehow convinced himself to sit up. Ugh, the Kittee's saliva dripped from his skin and glued the dirt to his bare back. He shook the excess from his hands.

Wait.

Blue skies?

Link’s senses came back to him all at once: Blue skies, the whisper of wind in tall grasses, a wood owl, crickets, the bugle of a distant buck, summerwing butterflies, courser bees. The smell of fecund soil. The sun warmed his shoulders for the first time in what felt like years.

“We’re in Hyrule.”

Zelda sat up as well. She saw the castle in the distance, the mountains and hills, and the clouds meandering in the spaces between them. Green grass splayed out in all directions. Soft breezes played in their hair.

“Hyrule Field,” murmured Zelda. Awe glittered in her eyes, as if she’d never seen a sky or the sun before, because that’s what it felt like. “Link! We completed the trial!” she cried.

Kittee chuffed a happy exclamation point at her.

Zelda stood and took in her new location, contagious joy on her face. She threw her arms around Kittee’s neck, laughing. “We’ve made it! Thank you, sweet creature.” She directed a brilliant smile to Link, and Link’s cautious hope glittered back. “Oh, how I’ve longed for the skies above!”

Zelda giggled at the Kittee head-butting her face sweetly. With a heavy thud, it rolled onto its back, wiggling happily on the grassy floor. Zelda’s heart nearly burst as she realized that this must be the first time it’s ever warmed its belly in the sunshine.

“It seems I am not the only one,” she cooed.

Link’s mounting excitement waned the longer he acclimated. Something doesn’t feel right.

The wilds hummed with all the same signs of life. The same beams of light slanted through the leaves above. The same ripe apples weighed the boughs of trees. The castle in the distance watched over them, same as always.

And yet, Link couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something is off. His fingers twitched, wishing to draw a Master Sword that wasn’t there.

Zelda was busy snapping pictures with the Sheikah slate when she sensed the anxiety radiating from her appointed knight. She saved a still-frame of Kittee batting at a butterfly in favor of watching Link scrutinize his surroundings.

The creature’s tail thumped against the floor in agitation and it jolted upright.

“Link?”

The knight didn’t even blink. Zelda was beginning to pick up on the permeating feeling of not-quite-right. He eyed the slate in her hands and asked, “What time is it?”

Zelda’s heart sank. It was like she was jolted back into reality-- or, rather, their present pseudo-reality. She checked the slate, fearing the answer. Zelda tried and failed to hide her crestfallen expression when she read it.

5:48PM -39*F.

His angular features lost even more soft edges. 

“I… don’t understand. Are we not in Hyrule?”

Link remained silent.

“We completed the trial. We successfully scaled Vah Naboris. Should we not be at the Spring of Unity?”

Link didn’t say anything because he didn’t have to. They both knew: They weren't in Hyrule.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“If this is another trial, then there should be an inscription somewhere,” Zelda thought aloud. “However, we’ve searched this entire area and have turned up nothing. It must be somewhere. Are we to search all of Hyrule for this riddle?”

If she's discouraged by the idea, Zelda definitely doesn't sound it.

The waning evening twilight outlined her in stunning orange, making her glow as brightly as the energy radiating off of her. Somehow, despite her impeccable breeding and royal standards, the Princess's hunger, fatigue, and desperate need of a bath were all overshadowed by her outstanding mood.

Link paused in his work starting a fire, and couldn't help the faint smile on his face. "What are the chances that this really is Hyrule, and there's a malfunction with the slate?" He spoke evenly, if just to be her anchor. Dutifully, he continued to breathe into the embers. 

Zelda hummed thoughtfully, her nose curling at the idea. “Perhaps... Though, I should hope not. I do sincerely hope that completion of the Unity Trials deposits us at the Spring. What point is there otherwise? Besides, there has been a conspicuous lack of travellers. We have yet to encounter even a monster here.” She eyed the castle, silhouetted in bursting colors. "And look! By this hour, smoke should be puffing from the Castle Kitchens; Here, there is no such sign of life."

"You don't sound very upset."

Zelda leaned on her crossed arms over her knees. "Would you rather that I pretend otherwise?" she quipped playfully. Her hair fell over her shoulder and the glare of the sun off of it nearly blinded Link. "I've always wondered how it would feel to walk in my own land without the feel of critical eyes gazing upon me. No gossipmongers, no courtiers, no parliamentarians..."

Smoke and warmth rose from the kindling in his hands. Link wore a curious expression that Zelda couldn't quite read. "I wouldn't have expected you to let them get under your skin."

Zelda crossed her arms petulantly. "No, my underlings are most certainly not 'under my skin'! Moreover, I would prefer not to talk about it here, in the one place free of their negging and naysaying, _thank you_."

Unimpressed, Link sat back on his heels, crossed his arms, and waited. _Three... two... one..._

"...But they wrote a recipe book about me. A _book, _Link!" Ah, there it is. Link began skewering mushrooms to roast over the fire as she ranted. "They claimed my favorite food is a fruitcake. A fruitcake! Which, supposedly, 'clears your head' and makes you 'focus on ancient technology.' The nerve! Such flagrant disrespect! Can they not see I'm doing all that I can?"

Link waited a moment before he chose to speak. "Is that not your favorite food?"

"Of course it is!" she pouted, "Fruitcake is delicious. How could they ruin that for me?"

Link couldn't help the shallow, ironic laugh she pulled out of him. _Poor Princess._ Wordlessly, he shook his head and moved to sit beside her. Just the change in proximity was enough to get her to look at him, offering a shy smile. Somehow, the fire felt warmer. She accepted the roasted skewer of mushrooms with quiet thanks. They ate in relative calm and silence.

"I see your point not to concern myself with the opinions of the ignorant," Zelda sighed. How Link communicated that in so few words would always be beyond her. "I just wish they weren't right. Without my sacred powers, I'm not able to seal Ganon away upon his return. I'm not even certain that I'll be ready to do so, even if I do gain my powers in these trials."

Link knew better than to try and pull the wool over Zelda's eyes. The truth is, they were right, to some degree. The crushing weight of destiny made the air coarse and dense. Rather than try to convince her otherwise, Link just leaned a little closer, his bare shoulder touching hers. The understated gesture brightened Zelda's smile more than any empty platitude ever could have, and she leaned a little more into him. Sunset fireflies began to float in and out of sight.

While Link began his second, then third helping of skewered mushrooms, Zelda spectated a sport she had never known existed. 

Mouth full but eyes confused, Link queried as to what she was giggling at. She gestured to the distant field, where the glowing outline of the Kittee poked above the tall grasses no matter how low it crouched. Even the knight couldn’t help but smile as the creature stalked towards a deer in a way that, theoretically, seemed stealthy. That is, if not for the fact that the waning sunlight made its ethereal blue glow more and more conspicuous by the minute. 

The buck stared straight at the hunting predator long before it finally decided to dart off into the forest. Kittee gave chase on instinct, but its prey had seen it from a mile away. The hunter roared pitifully, and Zelda thought that on some level she could relate.

Sounds of night in Hyrule grew bolder as the sun set below the horizon. The wind in the grass harmonized with emerging cricket songs to soothe the nameless restlessness in Zelda.

“Is it wrong to enjoy this?” Link’s quirked brow indicated interest. Zelda clasped her hands in her lap, the faintest smile on her face as she watched the skies burst. “Even if I know it is a fabrication, even though I can sense something is not quite right, it is admittedly quite beautiful.” Her shoulders slumped and it was as if Link could see the halo of light in her hair dimming in real time. Zelda’s royal accent only made her sound sadder, “This is the stuff of my own fantasies: A wild Hyrule, free of interlopers and danger and… responsibility.”

Link could hear what she wasn't saying.

_It feels wrong to get me attached to something only to take it away when I've succeeded._  
_Having something and losing it hurts more than never having it at all.  
_ _The closer we get to leaving, the less I want to._

Link swallowed, clutched by something he didn't have a name for. After a long moment of thought, he looked to the stars and said, "We just managed to delay the inevitable. Maybe we should just focus on enjoying what we have."

"It may be the first time I've ever heard you say that."

That at least earned her a bashful smile from her knight. Maybe she was rubbing off on him after all.

They both knew what the inevitable was, but neither wanted to say it aloud. Together, they watched the last light in the west slip away into darkness. Silence blanketed them, warm but not comfortable. There were too many unanswered questions dangling above them. It seems every time they answer one, it begs ten more.

Instead of breaching a discussion neither were in a state to address, Zelda tried to take his advice by focusing on the feel of her hands over the fire. Crickets braving the creeping night air with their song. Stars twinkling as the skies made space for them. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She was here, in this moment, sharing peaceful silence with the one person she trusted. And yet, something still felt wrong. A creeping feeling of suspect that grew the darker the skies became. An undertow of predation.

As if the Earth ground against its own axis.

Like a bog bubbling up from under the soil with no source.

Zelda jumped when she felt Link’s hand grip her wrist. He was tense, alert, as if he may drag her from her seat at any moment. Zelda couldn’t hear over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Link scanned the area, primed for a fight.

“Link?”

He didn’t answer. 

The Kittee’s deep, rolling snarl in the distance chilled their blood.

That’s when they saw it. At first, Zelda thought that it was a trick of the mind, flashing lights from around the edges of her peripheral. But then she saw that Link, too, was alarmed by flickers of magenta licking at his ankles.

Ashes rose from the soil like the negative of snowfall. 

The stench curled Zelda’s nose.

Pulses of unseen energy curdled the marrow in their bones. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Link couldn’t see any threat, but he could feel it breathing down his neck nonetheless. 

The forest held its breath.

Then, from behind Hyrule Castle, the moon rose. Angry, blistering red light stained every surface it touched. The shadow of the castle stretched and warped under the moon’s bloodshot stare until it shrouded all of Hyrule Field. 

Zelda suddenly felt just as helpless here as she did in her overworld. “The moon… what is this?”

A noise behind them alerted the knight: Earth cracking.

They turned just in time to see a bony hand claw free of the soil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Zelda is referencing actually exists in the Castle Library. (: When I read it, I laughed and laughed at how much shade is thrown at the Princess.


	31. Moonrise

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link’s focus kicked into high gear. Hands shot out from the soil all around them. The field clanged with the sound of rattling bones like demonic windchimes. Within the space of a few heartbeats, an army of ghost-breathed dead stal creatures exhumed themselves, animated with the force of hatred alone.

Armed with spears and swords, the monsters advanced, and Link had to think on his feet.

Lacking any other weapon, Link pulled the slate. He pushed himself in front of Zelda and hurled a bomb at the closest, boldest stalizalfos. It exploded, sending it and the two nearest stal creatures flying in all different directions. 

Link saumersalted forward to steal the dropped broadsword and drive it through one bouncing skull, then another. 

Zelda’s cry redirected him. A stalmoblin towered over her, looming vile eyes down on the princess. It could sparsely raise its weapon before it was flash-gilded in gold, locked with chains of time. Link’s war-cry rang out as he hurtled one, two stalkoblin arms at the monster’s head, just shy of grazing Zelda.

When the chains unlocked, the beast’s bones flew backwards hard enough to stun the next wave of assailants.

“Behind you!”

Even as she said it, he could already feel the wind of a blade mid-swing. Link strafed to the side, feeling it graze past his shoulder, and swung his blade around in an arcing semicircle. 

The monster was decapitated, clacking its teeth angrily at him. He kicked it and sent a bomb chasing after it; One explosion beheaded more and destroyed the skull in the same moment. While those enemies were busy fumbling around for their heads, Link fended off another front with vicious precision.

Too many to count. They weren’t regenerating. Link didn’t see more appearing from the ground. Individually, they were no issue, but they posed a threat to Zelda’s safety en mass like this.

Link backflipped to avoid the wide swing of a stalmoblin’s claymore. Two more bombs set off in succession. Bursts of malice and wraithlike roars of anger deafened the battlefield. Swords shrieked and clanged with each parry and strike. Link's blue eyes flashed vicious violet in the red haze of the blood moon’s light.

Zelda tried to stick close, but his lightning flurries and acrobatic maneuvers made that impossible. She found herself watching the dance of blades in awe and horror. The force of a perfectly calculated bomb blew her hair back.

In the din of the chaos and noise, Zelda didn’t notice until it was too late. 

The shadow of a monster on the ground covered her own. She turned, and was face to face with eyes burning with malice. Link shouted something she didn’t hear. Sulfuric breath plumed on her face. Zelda shrieked, entire body seized with fear, and she fell back onto the ground hard. The pig-faced monster snorted with glee and brought down his dragonbone club with all its might.

But no blade would land.

A vicious roar drowned out all other sound as the crushing weight of two paws crumpled the monster’s bones beneath them. Golden claws swung at another encroaching stalcreature, launching its skull far out of range of its body. Zelda sat stock-still with two giant paws near-missed crushing her. Standing protectively over the Princess, Kittee swung around violently, tail bludgeoning the wave of monsters just out of Link’s reach. The feline turned just enough for Zelda to see its face curdled in anger. 

Pure white light shone from its eyes.

The creature picked up the loose skull at its paws, tossed it in the air, and caught it in the crux of fangs. A sickening _ crunch _, and the monster burst in a black plume.

For a split moment, Link made eye contact with the Kittee’s blinding eyes, and they had an understanding.

Zelda found herself surrounded, but now in a different way: A wall of crouched, snarling feline on one side, and an equally ferocious Hylian on the other. 

In this way, they fended off the onslaught. Bones flew in all directions, rent apart by claw and sword. While the Kittee was far more clumsy in its aggression-- bumping Zelda and Link when it was careless in pouncing an enemy-- Link was able to eliminate monsters much faster than before.

While Link was otherwise engaged, Kittee hissed at the row of stalizalfos squawking and bouncing to and fro, just missing the great beast's claws. The distraction created a window for another, smaller stal creature to drive a spear into the Kittee's shoulder with a sickening _squelch._

The Kittee howled in pain while the stalizalfos cheered. Enraged, the creature gripped the spear in its fangs, tore it from its own body, and threw both the spear and its yowling wielder bowling through the surprised skeletons. Heads went rolling on the floor, only to be smashed to rubble beneath the pounding paws. Zelda nearly lost her balance from the force of earth rumbling beneath her. 

Link pulled his badly damaged weapon from a stalfos skull, crouched and scanning for others. His chest heaved. Sweat dripped from his forehead, stained blood-red from the moon.

Adrenaline sang in his blood. 

The Kittee, too, was crouched and agitated, but was not otherwise engaged in a fight.

The massive creature whirled around and slapped the ground with a gut-punching roar. There was no enemy behind it, only soft grass. Link strafed to avoid the creature’s whipping tail. Even without enemies, the beast continued to fight and shadow-box at nothing.

Link pushed Zelda behind him, watching the animal lash savagely, as if engaged in a battle they couldn't see. Its eyes continued to glow pure white, casting spotlights wherever it looked. Power rippled from bunched muscles, somehow both sacred and savage. As if it had no where to direct this energy, and was driven to madness from it.

Startled by the flash of movement of its own tail, the creature whirled and caught it, hissing at the trees its golden leaves had just nicked. Where glowing blue and blood-red collided, malicious violet coalesced.

Having caught their breath, the Hylians observed with varying levels of horror. "That's enough! The fight is over. Calm yourself, please!" Zelda called to the animal. Her voice fell on deaf ears. Then, to Link, “Has the Kittee been driven mad? Why won’t it calm down?”

Link squinted in thought.

It seemed to favor one of its front legs. Sheikah-blue blood poured from an injury in its shoulder. Link had seen this before: desperation. It's in pain.

Then, he stepped towards it. Not quietly, so as to not surprise it. The Kittee whirled on Link, flaring fangs and blinding light at him. Tense, but not anxious, Link watched the creature watch him. He remained still as the feline slapped the ground again and roared a clear warning. 

Zelda held her breath.

Link cocked his head ever so slightly. His body set off every alarm at the predator, but even flushed in adrenaline and feeling the bass of snarl in his chest, Link could still hear Zelda’s voice. 

_ Give it a chance. _

Okay.

The knight held up his open palm, and gave the creature a chance. He watched its ears swivel, muzzle uncoil, just for a moment. It hesitated, nose twitching. The pure white in its eyes dimmed for a fraction of a second. It was enough for Link.

He chanced a step forward. The Kittee’s eyes flashed brighter and it feigned a snap at his arm, but Link didn’t flinch. He reached up and firmly set his hand on the side of the creature’s face. 

Zelda watched, breathless, as the white finally, mercifully, shifted to golds and reds in the Kittee’s eyes. 

Link stood, dwarfed but dauntless, with his hand in the Kittee’s cheek tuft, stroking back and forth. Carefully, tentatively, Link stepped forward again, trailing his hand down the beast's rumbling throat, bound for the wound. Claws left deep trenches in the earth. Link placed his hands on the wound and applied steady pressure.

Before their eyes, the wild monster before them softened its stance, and leaned in to Link’s touch. He said something too quiet for Zelda to catch, but it was answered with Kittee’s soft chuff. When Link pulled away, his hands were stained blue, but the Kittee's wound had closed.

Link turned back to catch Zelda's thunderstruck stare. "How...?"

Kittee rested its heavy face in the crux of Link's neck and shoulder and nuzzled him gratefully. Link half-smiled, perhaps a little bashful in his tone, and answered, "It feeds off trust, right?"

Catching the gaze of the Princess, the creature mewed an invitation to her. Overwrought but ultimately relieved, Zelda approached her protectors. “Thank the Goddess you two are alright,” Zelda spoke over the soft happy-growls of the creature nuzzling her chest. “Thank you. Both of you.”

"Are you hurt?" was Link's answer, scouring her for injury. His hand wrapped around her wrist without him even noticing.

"I'm uninjured." Other than the odd scrape and bruise, she was unharmed.

Link, however, had next to nothing in the way of armor-- His Gerudo pants and bare chest still bore claw marks and blood stains from their first skirmish. Either through miracle or as a testament to his skill or both, Link was mostly unscathed.

Satisfied, Link turned away, still on edge and wary of danger. 

“Link, you saw it too, right?”

“Its eyes were white.”

Zelda nodded. She desperately wanted to tear the mystery apart, but it felt like she just had no time.The moon outlined their forms in alizarin crimson. Between the blood moon’s gaze and the recent attack, that same eerie sensation that they were being watched would just not go away. 

The still-wriggling arms on the ground gave her the creeps. Despite this, Zelda refrained from complaining. Her silence allowed Link to listen more closely to the surrounding, now breathing wilds.  
  
Nothing, yet.

Link stealthily moved equip what weapons and shields he could scavenge from the ambush. Without his enchanted korok pouch, he could only keep what he could strap to himself: a bow, quiver, shield, and broadsword.   
  
The knight held up his hand to them. _Stay here._

~*~*~*~*~*~

There was no room for argument on the knight's face.

Zelda dare not try. So instead she remained, anxious, her breath reigned in, listening to the clack-clack-clacking of stal creature arms. _Just stay calm,_ she coached herself, less for her own sake and more to help the Kittee quit its anxious pacing. _Link is just running a sweep. He'll be right back._

Is this what he felt in the Trial of Faith when she left him alone on the staircase?

Goddess hear her, she is beyond sorry to inflict this on another person. 

Finally, the Kittee could take the clacking no more, and crunched down on a stal arm with its fangs. The sound sent shivers through her body, nails on a chalkboard. "Cease and _desist!_" she hissed under her breath at the feline, who openly hissed back. Zelda squinted, unimpressed, but decided to leave it be so long as they were both quiet.

Link was out of sight. She scoured the magenta darkness for any movement that wasn't borne of the wind, but found nothing. It was no help that she stood beside a giant neon beacon. Not only did it steal her night vision, but if there is something out here, she's wearing a target.  
  
The creature emitted a high, anxious sound and scented the air. 

Link was taking too long.

She reached for the slate, but Link had taken it. Her blood pressure soared until she could hear it in her ears. 

"Link?" Zelda's muted shout didn't carry. No answer. Again she tried, a little louder. "Link!"

The trees whispered rumors in the wind.

"He should be back by now," Zelda said lowly, watching the wilds ahead. As if it could understand, the Kittee answered with a low sound of agreement.

_That's it. Long enough._

Zelda made the first move towards the thicket where Link had disappeared, and the creature followed. When Zelda stopped, the Kittee took the lead and followed its nose in the low light. It wound carefully through the trees, its massive body cumbersome in the small spaces. Zelda followed just behind, shielding her face from tree branches that were pulled forward only to snap back. 

The scent trail ran dry. Or, at least, that's what Zelda thought when the Kittee suddenly halted.

That is, until the creature's throat rumbled angrily. The golden tail in front of her twitched, knocking Zelda aside without the creature even realizing. Whatever it sensed, it couldn't be good.

In the dark, Zelda couldn't see any sign of Link. Everything was a shade of malevolent reds and purples. 

The Kittee crouched down to the floor, pinned back its ears, and fell silent. Like it was trying to hide. Zelda tentatively moved along its side to see what had set it off, but her night vision was deactivated by the blue glow. Pure white light illuminated the stalks of grass directly in front of them, and Zelda knew it was afraid. 

Afraid of what?

Then, the dark grew eyes.

Magenta lights stood stark and contrast to the dim distance. Sheikah designs illuminated cyclops war-machines, the rage of their crazed eyes pulsing as that horrible whirring alarm drowned out all noises of the field. These must be the Guardians positioned outside of Castle Town for protection. But why do they glow magenta and not blue? Why do they upset the creature so? Aside from a malfunction, they are harmless.

They Guardians began to power-up their beams. Three lasers pointed from the enraged eyes and illuminated the tiny body standing just in front of them. A Hylian body.

Link.

Kittee crouched down lower and whined. One Guardian lit up gold, locked in chains of time. Another chimed as Link pulled his bow and loosed an arrow into its eye. The Hylian took off at a full sprint the other way while the third chased him with its mech spider legs.

They have to help him! Without a second thought, Zelda threw her leg over the Kittee's neck, fisted the fur of its ruff, and gave it a hard kick. "After him!" she urged, spurring the terrified creature. Grass flung into the air and wood creaked as Kittee shot forward at full gallop towards Link. Zelda barely managed to hang on to its neck for dear life.

The closest Guardian's laser was fully powered. Out shot a beam of light, which Link barely somersaulted out of the way of. Flames licked up his sides, with the three Guardians not far behind. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Sheikah slate locked another guardian in stasis, but they were too much. Rather than lead them back towards Zelda, Link decided to hold his ground long enough to parry another beam back. With this many on him, there would be no way he could outrun them. He'd have to keep stopping to stun each one, one at a time. And he wasn't sure this shield was strong enough to perfect-guard his way out of this.

Link moved to knock an arrow, but he was too late.

The knight cried out in agony as a beam hit him square in the chest.

Pain grilled him from the inside out, sending him rolling on the ground. He continued rolling, just barely managing to evade another. His face in the dirt, Link couldn't see the third through the tall grasses, but he knew it would be next to deliver the killing blow. Link pulled the slate and the screen outlined the Guardian.

He managed to lock it before the beam shot out.

While the other two powered up, Link struggled to his feet, fighting for each wheezing breath. He pulled his bow again, determination in his eyes. He couldn't die here. Zelda had to get her powers, and he has to be there to facilitate that. Defend Zelda, defeat Ganon. Those are his two jobs. He will not fail.

The Hero pulled his bow once more, refusing to give up. That's when he heard his name.

"Link!" 

A vicious roar accompanied it. Kittee appeared in the air from behind the mass of the Guardians, claws extended. Its massive weight came down on the stasis'd Guardian with a _creak _and a _crunch_, and it launched clear over the other two just behind Link. 

Before Link could even react, Kittee grabbed him with its mouth and turned hard. A Guardian's beam exploded the ground where he stood just a half a moment before.

The next thing Link knew, the creature had thrown him into the air. Quickly reorienting himself, Link's focus felt like it slowed time as he drew his bow midair. One of the Guardians stumbled, head spinning around. Link landed heavily on the Kittee's back, scrabbling to keep purchase on the animal despite its sloping gate. It was easier this time, since the creature had grown since the last. That's a blessing Link didn't have time to count. 

"Are you okay!?"

Instead of answer, Link shouted over the wind and mechanical noises, "Head for the docks!"

What? Why The docks? Why any of this? Why is the Goddess doing this to them? Why is there battle inside the Unity Trials? Something horrible told her that the Goddess indeed set them up for failure. 

Zelda looked over her shoulder to question him, but would never get that opportunity. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach.

More guardians. 

In the distant dark of the foothills and beyond, writhing bodies of magenta crawled down the hills like a bursted spider's egg-sac. Skywatchers hovered above Castle Town. Turrets mounted on the edifices of the Castle followed them with the ghostly eyes of a haunted painting. Even outside of range of their lasers, they were drawn to the beacon of the glowing creature. 

This isn't a malfunction. This is a _hunt._

Link rose to his feet, wobbling as he calculated his balance. Link's focus was unbreakable. Eyes narrowed, Link stood low on the Kittee's back, holding his balance, waiting for the exact... right... moment...

_Now!_

A ping indicated the laser was fully powered. Link shield bashed forward with all of his weight, parrying the bright blue laser right back into the eye of the guardian. Link nearly lost his balance, but managed to lay flat at the last moment on the feline's back. The Guardian exploded in a burst of machine parts and malice.

More were converging on their location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any fans of The Last Guardian here? I drew major inspiration from Trico. Cannot recommend that game highly enough (:


	32. Light Reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers ahead for Castle layout.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link couldn’t breathe all the way in. Shriveled and singed, Link’s skin felt shrink-wrapped and constricting. Still, the Hero refused to quit.

He knocked an arrow meant for the eye of a stalker cutting off their exit. The jolt of their squirrely mount was impossible to anticipate, and his shot missed.

Knock another arrow. Recalculate. 

The stalker pinged loudly, beam completely powered at the exact moment the arrow struck, stunning the machine and leaving it to spin in circles.

There’s no telling how many more lasers were on them at the moment. From the heat from the targeting beams, _ too many. _

More inbound. A cacophony of alarms blared over one another until Zelda couldn’t even hear the wind in her ears anymore. She flattened herself to the Kittee’s neck as the creature suddenly ducked. The _ pew _ of a beam burnt the tips of her hair and silenced her scream.

She heard the twang of Link’s bow rapid-firing. 

Zelda barely managed to peek over the ruff she clung to in time. Just ahead, a Sheikah barricade. Their agile mount leaped onto the top, claws crunching the metal and nearly dismounting its riders.

A launched beam struck the stalker beneath Kittee’s claws, and the force of the disruption nearly sent them tumbling.

Still at a sprint, the great beast swayed, catching its balance just long enough for Link to send another arrow. The propeller of a Guardian Skywatcher exploded and sent it into a tailspinning explosion. 

Link was running low on arrows. 

The _ ping _of a laser being shot behind them set off instant pavlovian terror. Link turned just in time to block the incoming beam with his shield, but it shattered upon impact. 

There were too many machines humming from too many places to keep track of. 

Not for lack of trying. Instead, Link had to hold on with all of his strength, cradelling around Zelda as the Kittee went vertical of its own accord and swatted a Skywatcher to the ground. Zelda's breath was nearly knocked from her lungs.

The panicked, furious creature tore across Irch Plain. They were so close to the Castle Docks that they could see fish beneath the surface of the moat below. 

Link heard the _ ping _ of a readied laser and reached into his quiver to stun it. 

He was out of arrows. 

The beam shot out faster than Link could even see it. 

Link and Kittee both let out horrible pained howls at the intense beam. Fire licked up their bodies, grilling from the outside in. Both Zelda and Link held desperately to the Kittee’s fur as one of its legs was taken out from underneath it, sending it tripping then sliding face-first into the dirt.

Blinded by his own pain, Link lost his grip and fell.

“Link!” Zelda shrieked. She reached out to grab him, but her hand found nothing but air.

The Kittee scrambled back to its feet, leaving Link behind.

He managed to grab the creature’s tail just before a beam ravaged the spot he occupied milliseconds before. With only one arm, Link struggled to keep his grip on the golden leaves as he was dragged through the tall grasses.

Link’s vision blackened around the edges. Horrible pain bloomed throughout his body.

It is his duty not to die here.

He cannot fulfil his destiny as the Hero as a corpse in a shrine.

Though the chaos was deafening, all Link could hear was Zelda’s voice:

_ It’s cruel… I’m given something I care about only to have it taken away at the end. _

The knight’s arm shook with the strength it took to hold on for his life. He managed to open his eyes, bound for his charge. He could see Zelda craned to look at him, struggling to maintain grip on the limping creature’s neck. She was shouting something at him he couldn’t hear.

Tear tracks streamed through the mud on her cheeks.

_ I’m being forced to love something and then watch it die. _

The closest stalker’s beeping increased, target set on his chest. Metal tentacles pounded the ground just shy of his feet.

This can’t be what the Goddesses want for them. This can’t be the destiny of the Hero and the Princess. 

Hurting her like that can’t be the answer. Her agony can’t be the source of divine powers. Their tragedy wouldn’t spark the sacred. It wasn’t the answer then, and it isn’t now.

_ I refuse to give in to that destiny. _

So does he.

Link wrapped his legs around the stem of golden leaves. With the last of his strength, he unsheathed the broadsword on his back, his last weapon, and hurled it forward.

The Guardian’s eye was stunned from magenta to blue. It disappeared into the crimson-black distance as they left it behind. 

Darkness closed in on his vision. 

He felt himself leave the ground.

The last thing Link saw before he was plunged into coldness was the watery reflection in Zelda’s green eyes.

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~

Indistinct, watery sounds.

A reality undulating ripples through itself.

Cold and wet meets hot and burned.

Hard wood, soft skin.

A softer voice warping in and out.

“Link. Wake up, Link.”

Something tickled his nose. He recognized it as hair. 

“Link, please… please, Link, you have to wake up.”

He tried to breathe in to answer her, but pneumonic water stopped him. Link coughed, and the water dribbled down his chin.

When he opened his eyes, he saw green ones staring back.

The knight inhaled as far as his damaged rib cage would allow, wincing at the sharp pang. Zelda’s arms supporting him loosened, as if afraid to break him. 

“Link…?” she ventured, “Oh, thank the Goddess. We have to go--”

She broke his gaze to stare further into the cavern. Across the docks was the snarling, wounded Kittee. The remains of black Lizalfos lay scattered in the creature’s spotlight gaze. It was still afraid.

Link tried to sit up, but failed. Following the creature’s stare, Link keened his head to see a sight that stopped his heart. Perched upon the cliff was a solid wall of glowing Sheikah war machines. They stood perfectly, eerily still, outlined in blood red from the moon. There were so many that there was no telling the individual from the hoard.

Even out of the reach of their lasers, they stared unblinking.

“Can you stand?” Zelda hauled one of Link’s arms around her shoulders. The knight nodded, but immediately crumpled as soon as she found her feet. The grinding of his teeth was as intense as the grinding of his bones. 

Link leaned heavily on Zelda who grunted with the strain, not only due to his weight but also from keeping him from slipping off; They were both soaked with moat-water. 

His weight was too much. Zelda crumpled back onto her knees, despondent. “Link, why are we here? Where are we even to go?”

Rather than answer, Link unholstered the slate, activated magnesis, and handed it to her. Confused, Zelda looked from the device, then back to the knight. He tried to speak, but only a cough came out. Instead, he pointed to the stairs leading towards the furthest reach of the dank cavern.

He didn’t see, but did feel her resolute nod. The warm body slipped away, leaving him on the hard, splintery wood that stabbed his roadburned back with every shallow breath.

Consciousness behaved like a houseguest. It came and went as it pleased.

Link wasn’t sure how long he lay there. A heavy rhythmic pounding creaked the wooden dock under his ear. He opened his eyes to the glowing blue creature hobbling over to him. Panting, three-legged, it came to inspect him, eyes flicking from fearful white to concerned yellows. 

He managed to lift his palm, which the beast nosed gently.

Had it grown? There’s no telling from this angle. Kittee opened its mouth, bent on lifting him, but squeaked in pain from aggravating its own injuries. Whimpering, the creature lay at his side, tail curling around both of them.

Consciousness slipped away.

When Link came to again, it was from blinding pain. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” said the strained voice. She was moving him up on to something hard and flat, one limb at a time. Link felt cold metal and hollow glass. Objects inside clattered on top of one another. It was a bookshelf, Link realized absently. 

Once he was stable, Link’s eyes rolled forward to catch Zelda at the foot of the hard bed, magnesis visibly activated on the metal box. She walked in slow, measured steps, careful not to jolt him. Kittee struggled to follow behind her. 

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*

Focus, Zelda!

There’s no time to think like that. Link will have to pull through. He always does. He will be okay. She allowed herself one last backwards glance to the knight curled against the giant creature in the center of the library. It took turns licking his wounds, then its own, while Link visibly fought to stay awake.

He’ll be okay. He has to be. Right now, Zelda has to finish her work. Using the heavy bookcase to push things around, she managed to barricade the exits, clear out enough space in the main chamber of the library for the Kittee to lay unimpeded, locate shields and weapons, and even managed to spark a flame against the stone wall to start a fire in the hearth.

Her number one priority is getting everyone safe and stable. Without Link or Kittee to do the protecting, Zelda supposed it was up to her.

She tore down a banner hanging from the second-story ceiling until long swathes of fine red-and-gold textiles crumpled overtop of her. Zelda hurriedly ran downstairs to tuck the makeshift blanket around the exposed spots of the knight’s battered body.

What would Link do if he was the healthy one?

Healthy.

A health elixir!

But what goes into that? She tried to rouse Link to ask him, but he made no response other than shallow breathing. Kittee watched her as she flitted in a panic from bookshelf to bookshelf searching for a tome. When she found it, she threw it open onto a table and scanned wildly through its contents.

Monster parts, lizards...

The docks would have imports, wouldn’t they? They passed large wooden crates that must contain something like that. In her tattered Gerudo garb, Zelda sprinted down the staircases back to the docks, and returned with an armful of lizal tails and dead lizards. 

Kittee watched her as she replaced the bookshelf barrier, then swiftly moved towards the hearth. She had no idea what she was doing, but decided she didn’t have time to experiment. She threw the supplies into the pot, mimicking an imaginary Link beside her, until the slimy stew could be bottled.

Zelda had no idea if it would be effective.

Link stirred as she pressed the elixir to his lips. 

“Drink,” she said. When lethargy rolled his eyes back again, her voice rose. “Sir Knight, I command you to drink.”

He managed to stay lucid long enough to do as he was told. Zelda didn’t breathe until she watched his throat work the liquid down the column of his neck.

Zelda watched him for a long moment, then decided to pull back the stiff blanket on top of him. For the first time, she allowed herself to actually look at him.

His injuries ran her blood cold and made nausea roil in her stomach. Blackened and charred flesh bubbled in horrible blisters all across his chest. Bruises the size and shape of galaxies discolored his skin. He managed to sit up on his own, revealing his disfigured, rented, road-rashed back. Pebbles and debris were lodged in the horrible wounds.

Zelda pressed the bottle to his lips again, and his hand wrapped around hers. He grimaced as he drank deeply, purposefully leaving some in the bottom. Without a word, the knight pushed the bottle towards her meaningfully. 

Zelda's expression softened, a look at odds with the harsh orange and blue lights cast across her face.

“I’m unhurt,” she shook her head and pushed it back to him. He stared sternly, scrutinizing her. “On my honor. Both you and Kittee did a superb job of protecting me. Now, finish it.” 

Once he decided she wasn’t lying, Link did as she said.

They listened to the Kittee’s labored breathing and the crackling of wood in the hearth. To Zelda’s amazement, she could see the worst of his injuries mending themselves before her eyes. The sharpness returned to Link’s eyes, and he seemed aware of his surroundings for the first time.

Zelda's stagnant breath choked her. She couldn't breathe until Link's blue eyes finally met hers. 

"Link?"

The Knight swallowed, recognizing his own name at the same time he recognized the awful aftertaste of the elixir in the back of his throat. His scrunched up expression squeezed a laugh of relief out of Zelda's chest.

"Tell me, are you feeling better?"

Link seemed too preoccupied with figuring out where he was to answer her. Warmth radiated from the Kittee's side he lay propped against, and his hand still hadn't left Zelda's clutching the bottle. Roof over head. Smell of fire and old books.

"The library...? How--?"

“We took the secret entrance from the docks, just as you said. Good thinking on your part, I hadn't even known it existed.”

Link's breathing was too labored to tell if he took the compliment. Zelda felt his pulse jump, as if he just remembered something. Panic and urgency swept through the knight as he tried to sit up. "The Guardians--!" The movement caused a blast of pain to crack his skull and Link collapsed back against soft fur in agony.

"Link! Please, you have to remain still. You're not in any danger," Zelda implored, "I've sealed the exits. We're safe."

It took a moment for her soft voice to penetrate his firewall of fear, but when it did he finally managed a full exhale. Her hand gripping his arm anchored him to the present, and not the oh-too-near past.

Kittee whimpered, curling in on itself to watch him intently. It braved one gentle rasp to the side of his face. Zelda watched as he brought a soothing hand to the creature's cheek, then let it fall.

"I fear you've been concussed," Zelda admits. "What do you remember?"

Link groaned low, as if accessing his own brain hurt. After a long silence, he murmured, "The last thing I remember was being dragged and then I... fell? I think?”

Zelda felt something painful claw up her throat at the still-fresh memory. Her hands would not stop shaking. Still, she forced them to fold in her lap. “You hung on for as long as you could. It seems you lost your grip when this panicked thing leaped over the cliff-edge.” She spoke gently, petting the creature’s side, as if to say she forgives it. “This one barely managed to make it across. You were unconscious, so I swam to retrieve you. It is a miracle you did not inhale water, or that we were not still in the range of the beams.”

Link felt shame and anger join that elixir in his stomach.

"You saved me." His voice betrayed nothing.

Zelda gave a hollow half-smile that hurt to look at. "I suppose. Though, I would say it was a paltry effort in the face of all of the feats of courage you had performed up until that point."

Something twisted in Link's chest, and none of his ribs were in any state to withstand it.

Zelda found Link unreadable. Her brows furrowed in confusion, trying to decide if his change in energy was welcome or not. Deciding it wasn't, she continued on, as if to herself. "I thought it strange at first that the Unity Trials would introduce enmity as a component. But after seeing you fight alongside the Kittee rather than against it, I think I understand."

Link stared at her, prompting.

"The last trial was about learning to trust. This one seems to be about putting that trust into practice." With another puzzle to chew on, Zelda's anxieties could be boxed up for the moment. "It is strange, though. The previous trials all seemed to have an element in dealing with the past. With our memories. However, this doesn't appear to have that at all. Neither of us have experienced any of this before. It's all new."

Link's gravelly voice interrupted a moment of thought. "So this is supposed to represent the future."

The way he said it gave Zelda pause. 

"Perhaps." 

Dark dread settled like a layer of ash.

Zelda swallowed and tucked a matted lock of hair behind her ear. It's not as though this was news to them, right? They'd known all along that their destinies demanded they defeat and seal away Ganon. Violence and conflict were painted as inevitable and foreseen. 

It's different to think in abstracts, than to actually feel the terror. To know Link could very well have been snuffed out right before her eyes.

Is this their future?

No, it can't _literally_ be their future. It must be steeped in metaphor, or something. Something they haven't quite grasped yet. It's all just a simulation, Zelda reminded herself. A simulation designed to unify the Hero and Princess into an unstoppable unit, if the Kittee's growth spurt is any indication. Perhaps lacking the strength to simulate Calamity Ganon itself, the shrine picked the next strongest enemy to place against them? 

If the last trials were about building faith and trust, then this trial is a test of them.

It's hard to know for sure without an inscription to guide them.

If that is any sort of indication of how they will fare against Ganon, then they don't stand a chance. The fate of Hyrule rests on the shoulders of these two young people, and Link had flinched. The Hero, bastion of courage, had to be rescued by the Princess. Maybe they had this whole thing wrong: Maybe it isn't Zelda who needs to gain her powers, but Link who needs to learn competence in defeating the Calamity.

_Zelda’s green eyes glittering with tears, a target beam locked on her chest._

He was supposed to protect _ her_. Yet he was helpless.

This is supposed to represent their future? A nameless rage bubbled in Link's chest, and he wasn't sure whether to direct it at the shrine or the Goddess or himself.

He could hear Zelda's distraught voice echoing in his memory asking if this was all just a twisted allegory designed to teach her to accept loss. _I’m being forced to love something and then watch it die. _

That isn't it.

It's worse.

If he had only been more focused, this wouldn’t have happened.

Protect Zelda, defeat Ganon. That’s it, those are his two jobs. All of these other trials, all the riddles, they are just designed to distract him from that. To test his ability to remain steadfast, dependable, and competent. To tempt him with wiles and luxuries that he must ultimately resist to be successful in the face of evil.

Somehow, he’s lost sight of that. His boyish preoccupation with Zelda very nearly cost her life! And with it, the life of every soul in Hyrule. 

_ I’m being forced to love something and then watch it die. I refuse to give in to that destiny. _

Link now understands what that means. The difference is, he understands that there is no fighting destiny. 

After all, they'd have to face the inevitable eventually. They both knew that the warm insular bubble of this shrine would have to burst. They were literally forced to connect, only to have it severed in the end, to be thrust back into a world that is uninhabitable to this creature they'd raised together.

He no longer even tries to consider why the Goddess would be so cruel. He's nothing but a blunt instrument of Destiny, after all. Zelda made him forget, for a moment, but that doesn't make it not true.

“Link…?” Zelda’s gentle voice broke him out of his thoughts. 

He blinked back into himself. “Yes, Princess?”

Zelda’s brows furrowed, clearly finding his formality strange. He must have been hit really hard in the head, too. She decided not to comment. “Are you... feeling alright now?”

The knight put on his knight face and nodded resolutely. He braced against the Kittee to find his feet, testing his own aptitude. Pain strangled his expression for the barest of moments before he tamed it. The fact that he was not presently in the act of dying was deemed sufficient, so Link reported, “Yes. Thank you.”

He distinctly did not notice the wounded expression on her face as he turned to examine his surroundings in a more pragmatic way: She had done what he would have instructed. Barricaded exits, a pile of found weapons and shields, a fire. Now all that is left is to allow the beast to recover, and to find the next riddle.

The Kittee let out a high whine of pain, and Zelda did her best to comfort it.

There were complaints from within his own body of pain, but he found that with single-minded focus on the task of locating the next inscription, he could force himself to ignore it.

The voices of Hero and Knight pounded in his ears, reminding him of his worthlessness as Zelda’s protector. Not only would she have lost her life, but she would have experienced heartache over his death. She was distracted from her destiny by him, as he was by her.

No more of this.

No more would he live fast and reckless while the fate of Hyrule rests on his shoulders. If he has to take on the burden of making sure Zelda does the same, then so be it.

Even if he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

Even if it hurts.

There’s no fighting destiny.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Perhaps his pride was just damaged. She could understand that, to some degree. After all, every time Link encountered an embarrassing situation, he tended to retreat into bleak professionalism.

There isn’t much to do but to wait him out. It will resolve itself on its own.

It doesn’t help that she was so terrified to have nearly lost him, only to be left alone with those anxieties in her mind. It felt like all her dark corners kept closing in.

Focus on the task at hand.

There were no more monster parts available to make elixirs. Link could try to trek elsewhere to find some, but Zelda expressly forbade it. The risk wasn’t worth the reward.

"I said that you need to _rest,_" Zelda pressed waspishly. 

Link held his arms out, as if a display of his own impeccable health. "I promise I am well enough to conduct a simple supply run." He spoke with such conviction and stone-faced seriousness that he even made Zelda doubt herself for a moment.

Exasperated, Zelda considered nipping at his fragile masculinity, but decided against it. If he insists on a short gofer errand to heal his wounded pride, she supposes that it's fine enough for now. Perhaps she'll get more accomplished in the privacy of uninterrupted thoughts.

"Fine, but return swiftly. I'll keep working on finding some kind of inscription so we can leave this place."

She waived him out absently, missing the brief flash of hurt on his face.

While Link foraged on the docks, Zelda continued flipping open books, appraising their worth, and deciding whether to throw them in the reference pile or the fireplace. 

It is unlike her to burn any reading material, but this is only an illusory realm, and they need their fire.

_ Hidden Mysteries of the Sheikah _? Reference.

_ Neurological Studies of Keese Brains _? Fire. 

_ The History of Zora Waterbeds _? Fire.

Zelda eyed the cover of a newly minted copy: _ Recipes Fit for a Princess. _Said Princess glowered at the print, already knowing the caustic contents of the book. With a scoff, she tossed it into the fire and watched it burn.

The Kittee let out a low roar of pain that echoed through the Library. 

Holding her next title in hand, Zelda soothed her indignation with steady breaths. “I’m sorry, sweet creature.” The animal quieted its moans, but its tail switched back and forth in agitation. She noticed then that it was missing several golden leaves. “I’m just not certain what I’m looking for. Perhaps something empty, like what we discovered in Link’s home?”

Predictably, no answer. Zelda turned her attention back to the book in her hands. There was some sort of optical illusion, an image burned into her eye as if she’d stared at the sun too long. In this low light, the blue glow was not far off. So Zelda blinked and blinked to clear it, staring down at this book, but she saw it did not move. 

The cover read: _ The Astrologist's Complete Index of Constellations. _

It was adorned with beautiful embroidered dot-and-line illustrations of constellations. It hardly sounded like useful material for this trial, but she just couldn’t seem to cast it into the flame. Furrowing her brow and fighting a headache, Zelda tried to decode the trick of the mind she’d just fallen to.

She held the book up, then found as her eye adjusted back and forth, distant and near, that she saw on the Kittee the exact same pattern of constellations. 

The enormous beast watched as the tiny Hylian stared at it so hard that its ears pinned back. 

When Zelda squinted, she could just make out two tones of blue on the Kittee’s pelt. Once noticed, it couldn’t be unseen how the feline was littered with hundreds of constellations. They moved in relation to where Zelda stood. 

Has that always been there?

No, they would have noticed in Gerudo town. Right? And here, in this not-Hyrule, there would be no noticing in broad daylight, or in the midst of a fight.

Zelda inspected the laying creature with soft hand and hard eye. That’s when she found it: Down the creature’s spine, soft text glowed just a fraction brighter. Zelda stood back and snapped a picture with the slate. The text read:

> _ Align the stars that glow untended, _ _  
_ _ Sacred connections come not from skies above, _ _  
_ _ But are earned and defended._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy quarantine, everyone. You guys have kept me going through some dark times. I cannot wait to give you the experience I have waiting for you <3


	33. Euthanasia

~*~*~*~*~*~

Proud as he is, Link still had a difficult time masking the naked pain blaring through his bones.

By no small miracle, his injuries are no longer life-threatening. They did, however, hamper his efficacy in performing all manner of tasks. His current one was simple: Retrieve something edible. 

Determined in his steadfastness, the knight took each stair one at a time, leaning heavily on the bannister.

Crimson snakes of reflected moonlight writhed on the cavern ceiling like a perverse planetarium. The eerie silence and his distinct vulnerability worked in tandem to ratchet Link’s anxiety higher and higher. 

Link’s ears played tricks on him. Innocuous sloshing of water against the stone echoed back apparitions of lasers at full-power. Was the ringing in his ears from the _ pew _ of flying beams, or from his concussion? His skin braced for flowering burns and hard impacts that never landed.

It felt like everywhere he moved, unseen eyes followed him.

But when he finally managed to make it to water-level, he saw no eyes across the moat. Link’s heart stuttered. Where the great hoard of unblinking, arachnid war-bots had once stared, there was nothing. 

Where had they gone?

Did they give up their pursuit? It seems naive to hope so. Shaking himself out of it, Link quickly went about breaking into the crates around him, collecting whatever he could hold, and staggering back up the stairs.

He spent the whole time trying not to think about where the Guardians had disappeared to.

The breath he didn’t know he held finally released when he slid in through the secret entryway behind the bookcase and found Zelda not torn to shreds by mutinous machines.

No, in fact, the opposite was true.

Zelda had amassed a mountain of reference material, and was diligently studying at one of the desks. Notes and torn-out pages of text were strewn over all available space on her work area. The ones that didn’t have a place fluttered to the floor around her. She hadn’t even seemed to notice his entry until the Kittee chuffed a greeting to him. 

The air tasted like second-hand hope.

“Ah, Link! I’ve made a discovery. Look at what I found!” Zelda practically sang. Then, more subdued as she regarded him, “Oh… You look unwell. Perhaps you should sit down, first.”

Link found he didn’t have the energy to protest, because Zelda was right, just not entirely for the reason she thought. He decided against informing her of his discovery in the cave in favor of setting his modest haul in one chair and himself in another. Whatever she had, it seemed important.

Zelda pressed the Sheikah slate into his hands and swiped the album to the most recent image. It was of the Kittee, resting on its side, with its spine to the camera. Link’s eyes lifted to Zelda’s, who watched him expectantly. “What am I looking at?”

“Look closer,” she insisted. “The inscription runs from here to here.” Her finger pointed shoulders to haunches, but Link didn’t see anything. Perhaps the image quality was too poor for him to make it out? Link stood to inspect the creature, the blue light robbing him of any night vision he’d acquired.

Brows furrowed, Link focused in. Like a trick of the eye, or the floaters at the edge of his vision, Link had to work to read aloud the inscription.

“Align the stars that glow untended…  
Sacred connections come not from skies above,   
But are earned and defended.”

He turned back to Zelda, whose excitement over progress vibrated the air. “It’s no less cryptic than the others, sure. However, I noticed strange constellations on Kittee’s fur as well. They’re not fixed in place in relation to the creature, but instead seem to move based on the viewer’s perspective. Not unlike stars in the sky.”

Zelda was talking very fast, leaving Link reeling in her wake. When he focused, he could see the faint indications of constellations, shifting as he shifted, as if looking out a window. 

“It explicitly says that it doesn’t come from ‘skies above,’” Link weighed.

“Right! Which I thought was odd, too. It would make sense if we were supposed to triangulate a position based on the stars if not for that. But then I considered where else I’ve seen a certain preoccupation with constellations. I can think of no Sheikah relic that doesn’t bear them.” Link’s vision blurred for a moment. “In fact, the Astral Observatory here on Castle grounds is constructed in a very similar fashion. I admit that I’m not well versed in the minutiae of astronomy, but I suspect that if we were to arrive in the center of the Observatory, we would be able to line up the constellations and complete the trial!”

Link remained silent to digest the new information.

She got all of that done while he went to the docks? Maybe he really is in bad shape.

Speaking of bad shape… Link’s eyes drifted over towards the Kittee. The wounded creature’s hind leg was gnarled and twisted gruesomely from a blast impact. Patches of its skin clung on in indigo blisters. Several golden leaves of its tail were missing. A low, constant whine of pain squeezed every one of its breaths. 

“We aren’t going to be moving it anywhere until it’s healed,” Link observed.

“Nor until you are, either,” chided Zelda softly. “Now will you please rest? For me? I can manage a meal and research on my own for now.” 

To Zelda’s surprise, Link did not object despite the combative gleam in his eye. Instead he silently stalked over to the Kittee and placed his hand on its flank, murmuring something to it. They seemed to have an unspoken understanding as Link tucked himself in the creature’s side, and said creature miraculously allowed him to. Zelda laughed quietly to herself as the knight seemed to disappear in the soft folds of fur, only a tuft of his hair visible from where she sat. 

Even he has limits of stubbornness, she supposed. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Too many questions, not enough insights.

Were the Sheikah involved in the construction of this shrine? What does the alignment of stars have to do with Unity? Why were the Sheikah so obsessed with constellations? Why did the Kittee’s eyes glow white during some fights, and not others?

“Sacred connections… are earned and defended?” Zelda murmured to herself, book in one hand, stirring the cooking pot with the other. “It’s paradoxical. Do they not ‘glow untended?’” Zelda had re-read the inscription so many times, it seems no number of reference books will change the fact that the words had all become meaningless hieroglyphs. 

She could really use some help on this.

Snapping the spine closed, Zelda keened away from the hearth to peek at Link. There wasn’t much Link to be found, nearly enveloped as he was by the sleeping creature. She just managed to catch a peek of his face, completely slackened with rest.

So much for help. Looks like Zelda’s on her own.

Zelda tried to quiet the white noise in her mind borne of too much studying. It wasn’t doing her much good at this point, anyway. Instead, she listened to the unwieldy concoction simmering in the cooking pot, the crackle of fire, the Kittee’s low snoring, and if she really tuned in, Link’s soft breathing.

Something fiddled with a set of emotions Zelda didn’t have the energy for.

_ We don’t have any bowls… _ Zelda thought pragmatically.

Kittee’s ears perked up at the sound of food slopping into an upturned metal shield. After travelling with Link, she’s learned to embrace the _ It’s Not Stupid if it Works _ mentality. Zelda placed the ameteur dish of Hylian rice and voltfin soup before the creature, who meowed happily, then set up another for the knight. 

“Link?” Zelda hedged. She didn’t want to wake him, looking so peaceful cuddled up to the creature, but he needed his strength. Beside the beast and wracked with injury and asleep, Link looked far and away from the fierce protector that had saved her on the field. 

Tentatively, Zelda knelt beside him, watching wakefulness war him back from rest. Gently resting her hand on his knee decided the outcome and his eyes opened slowly. “Mm?”

“Food’s ready.”

Muscles twinged under a tectonic crust of scabs on his chest. With effort, Link sat up, still leaning heavily on the Kittee. Zelda sat cross-legged and offered him the handle of the serving spoon. 

Link eyed the unconventional container as she two-handedly set it across his lap.

“I made due with what I had,” said Zelda defensively.

Link smiled and made a non-combative gesture. “It works fine. Thank you.”

“Are you feeling any better?” The undercurrent of concern coming from her became an over-current. Before he could answer, she added, “And please spare me the machismo this time.”

Link’s mouth shut, his answer dying on his tongue. He replaced it with a slow, careful sip of bland-tasting soup. Link supposed he could benefit from a true inventory of his injuries. This time, he answered honestly, “I think the bleeding has stopped, and I can breathe normally now.” He tested his motion briefly, “I think what was broken is now just bruised.”

Zelda let herself indulge in the moment of relief. “I know this won’t heal you as quickly as an elixir, but it should help.” The shield beneath the Kittee clanged loudly as it was held still and licked clean. “I’m grateful to the Goddess for providing us a safe space to recover before we move on to the observatory.”

“So you determined that’s where we need to be going for sure?”

Zelda snorted softly. “After all of the times I was certain only to be wrong, I no longer mark anything as ‘sure’ when it comes to solving these trials. It would be more accurate to say that this is the first straw I grasped.” Link’s neutral face cinched subtly, indicating discomfort. Zelda breezed right past it, “In any case, reaching the observatory is a safer first-try than leaving the castle.”

Link’s expression creaked under a flash of anxiety. He covered it by blowing gently on another spoonful. Zelda’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, “What is it, Link?”

Link forced the bland soup down his throat. His eyes darted towards the secret bookshelf-tunnel that led to the docks. “I’m not sure. Something just feels off.” Zelda cocked her head and waited. “When I went down to the docks, all of the Guardians on Irch Plain were gone.”

“Gone?” Link nodded. “Where did they go?”

Link let out a long breath of air. “That’s what concerns me.”

Zelda furrowed her brows and leaned on her elbows. “Mm. Out on the fields, they seemed drawn to the light of the Kittee, as if it were some sort of beacon. With us hidden inside, they shouldn’t be able to find us. Throughout the course of our research, neither Purah or I found any evidence that Guardians possess object permanence. Once they lose sight of a target, it ceases to exist.”

Link didn’t answer, because he wasn’t one to counter logic with suspicion. He could only hope that she was right. 

Zelda watched his eyes wander to her stack of study materials on the worktable. His unspoken question didn’t go unheard. “I learned that, according to some legends, Hyrule was once completely underwater, flooded on purpose by Hylia. Navigating the seas based on constellations proved critical to their survival.” Zelda gently finger-brushed her matted hair over one shoulder. Zelda continued, “Though, I think that’s what it meant. My translations from ancient Hyrulean to the common tongue seem sticky. The word for ‘connection’ is the same as ‘constellation.’”

“Explains the rock salt deposits,” Link mused, mostly to himself. Then, after a moment of thought, he withdrew the Sheikah slate and examined the inscription. “You said ‘connection’ and ‘constellation’ are the same word?”

_ Sacred connections come not from skies above, _ _   
_   
Zelda nodded. Link continued chewing on an idea. “Sacred _ constellations _ come not from the skies above?” Link tested the taste of it. It made just as little sense. 

Zelda’s face cinched in consternation. She felt that Link was on to something, but it was just out of reach. “Purah mentioned that a wealthy nobleman volunteered to fund construction of an ancient tech lab outside Hateno Village.” The princess visibly wracked her memory, “They had just unearthed a-- What was it? A scope, of some sort? She was admittedly far more interested in the Astral Observatory than I was.” She could see an image of it in her mind, and tried to play reverse-pictionary with Link. “Like an enormous spyglass?”

Telescope. He’d heard the word mentioned in his hometown. “What about it?”

Great question. Zelda took a long breath and spoke slowly, “According to Purah, it was designed by the Sheikah to see stars invisible to the naked eye.”

“So there could be more constellations we don’t know about.” 

“We can’t trek all the way out to Hateno on a hunch,” Link objected.

“We shouldn’t have to. The Astral Observatory was constructed by Sheikah. It may have been buried for a few millennia, but it isn’t as though the stars change positions. They say the dimmer a star is, the longer the amount of time has passed since it was carved in the heavens,” Zelda mused. “It would be like glimpsing ancient history.”

Link wasn’t sure if he should take that literally or not. “Carved?” he asks, “What would the Goddess qualify as star-worthy?”

“From what I can gather, the constellations are named after famous ancient heroes and events. The Belt of the Hero? Farore’s Amulet? … Zelda’s Gaze.” She cleared her throat and concluded, “I don’t see why ancient constellations would be any different.”

Link didn’t miss the way that Zelda tripped over her heavy namesake. Some incredible historical event, accomplished by some other woman, literally stared her down every night. Kindly, he chose to press past it. “These constellations we can’t see could be the ‘untended,’ then.”

Zelda nodded, mouthing the word back to him. “Untended… It has sort of a sad connotation to it, doesn’t it? Like an untended grave,” Zelda observed mostly to herself. “Great events, lost to time.”

Silence weighted space between them. Link occupied himself with eating, if just to stave off just how suddenly small he felt in the space of a moment.

Zelda was given the privacy to experience her existential crisis: Even if they did complete the Unity Trials, even if she miraculously awakens her powers, even if they beat all odds and seal away Ganon, their story of triumph would one day be just another set of dying stars.

Their backrest let out a low _ awoo _ as it yawned. Zelda turned, her eyes straining in the blue glow until the constellations on its fur seemed to jump out at her as clearly as ink on a page. 

Well, perhaps stars fade, but never fully die.

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~

There’s no sense trying to guess how long they were there. With no windows, no moving clocks, no indication of day or night, time was indifferent to their slipping sanities. Only the hope of completing the Unity Trials drove them forward.

In Zelda’s case, to a fault.

Link had summarily dragged her away from her studies, insisted she eat, and took no objections to her resting. His head injuries were negligible, and so he took over the studies, armed with her notes and insights.

Now, Zelda was cradled between two massive forepaws, her face just barely visible beneath the creature’s rumbling neck as they slept. Her seraphic face carried just the barest of smiles, her eyes twitching with a dream.

The memory of hair tickling his nose. He remembered her body heat, her soft breath on his chest. His arm asleep under her head, not wanting to wake her.

Link’s ribs creaked and he forced himself to focus.

Looking over the reference materials, Link found more and more that he agreed with Zelda’s earlier assessments. The Astral Observatory is going to be their best bet. However, they had essentially no idea what they were looking for once they got there.

Untended stars. These invisible constellations, they’d have to be mentioned somewhere in Sheikah text, since they had to have been the ones to discover them. Link constantly referenced Zelda’s Sheikah rosetta, but even with it, he struggled to decode and translate what he found. 

What he did notice was a common motif among the invisible stars: The words Hero, Princess, and Unity. The oldest constellations seemed to depict twin sets of humans, presumably the former two. 

That’s less than helpful.

Following Zelda’s previous example, he tore out the relevant pages and tried (failed) to organize them with similar notes. Without eyes on him, Link allowed himself a weary sigh and he massaged the bridge of his nose. So close, and yet so far. 

“Not as easy as it looks,” said a soft voice. When had she woken up?

Link gave a weathered smile, “Never said it was.”

Zelda seemed satisfied with that answer and gently extricated herself from the warmth of the sleeping Kittee. She felt refreshed, and turned her smiling gaze back down to the creature. “It looks like it should be recovered enough to move on soon. Is that right?”

She pet the creature’s massive head, gently waking it. With a gaping yawn, the feline stretched all four limbs as far as they would go. A tiny whimper indicated it pulled too hard on the injured appendage, but the creature still managed to stand and arch its back with only three legs.

Zelda sidled up behind Link to read over his shoulder. Her unconscious comfort with being so close to him made a feeling lodge in his throat and he leaned away to give her extra space. “Did you learn anything interesting?”

“Nothing concrete.” Rather than try and explain, he presented her with the excerpted pages, margins filled with his brusque, succinct note-taking.

She hummed quietly as she read, then set the page down. “It sounds like we have it solved, then. To try and decode further feels as though we’re overthinking it.” Link’s expression indicated he didn’t follow, so she elaborated, “First line, Align the stars that glow untended-- Those are the latent constellations. The second line refers to the Astral Observatory. And the last indicates that these are constellations previous Heroes and Princesses earned.”

“And defended?”

“I suppose that’s our job.” Zelda sighed. “We need only to take the Kittee into the observatory, align the stars, and the trial should be completed. We’ve already grown the Kittee to what I assume must be maximum size. Our combined prowess in battle was the challenge to the test.”

Link thought she made sense, and couldn’t seem to poke any holes in her theory. After having the basic premise of the Unity Trials wrong this whole time-- Honestly, they somehow thought destiny was trying to bed them?-- crippling doubt was a staple to the process.

Instead of give voice to these doubts, Link remained neutral. “I hope so. The sooner we can leave this place, the better.”

Zelda’s expression softened, somewhere between sad and resigned. “It certainly has lost its appeal now that danger looms over us once again.” The princess took up the chair beside Link, watching as the Kittee sniffed at the railing of the second floor. “Though, I have to admit that the occupants of the castle are far more accommodating here than in Hyrule.”

Link tried not to think of those inhabitants. Still, apparitions of them in his mind’s-eye stared at how close the Princess sat to him, how familiar their energies were with one another. He glanced at Zelda, who seemed blissfully unaware of it. 

He, himself, moved in ways guided by the subconscious. The kind that would give rise to more whispers, the very last thing that Zelda needed right now. And the King--

The King was someone Link didn’t want to consider.

Zelda spoke mostly to herself, “I will allow myself to indulge whatever time I have left here. You said it yourself that we managed to delay the inevitable.”

Her knee touched his, and Link stood to put some space between them. She seemed surprised by his action, even if it was slow and calculated. “There’s no sense in delaying it further, Princess,” he sighed. 

That earned him a queer expression from the princess. “What do you mean?” Tension rippled in the line of Link’s shoulders, her only indication that she wasn’t watching at a statue. “Furthermore, since when have you taken to referring to me as Princess?”

“That’s your title,” Link answered blandly. Zelda’s stare skewered him, _ Try again. _The knight visibly swallowed the intimidation he felt beneath that look. Finally, he managed, “I have to refer to you formally.”

His word choice was so specific, Zelda paused to consider the subtext. Silence tightened around them like a noose.

“Link…” her low, warning voice wasn’t much better. Flares in her eyes betrayed a certain danger, “Considering our recent… _ experiences _ , it feels rather stuffy to refer to me by my title. Don’t you think, _ Hero _?”

Zelda didn’t miss the twinge in his face at how she bit out his respective title, her point thoroughly made. _ How do you like it? _ Not very much, he’ll admit.

This wasn’t a conversation he felt ready for. 

Emotions swashed in his eyes, pleading silently for her to just _ get it _ without him having to explain further. Naturally, she didn’t. However, the blue cocktail rang of sadness, frustration, and several other emotions she couldn’t name, which at least gave her pause.

Zelda softened her hostile aura, waiting.

For some reason, he seemed to suffer a flight of unseen pain, and he leaned on his palms on the tabletop. His deep sigh fluttered nearby papers. “Okay, fine, Zelda,” he relented, dragging his hand down his face. 

Wet, viscous sounds of an animal grooming itself interrupted his train of thought. It was fast and nauseating, riddled with anxiety like a sick fox, unable to pace or scratch as it would please. Link swallowed his disgust and forced his stomach to quit twisting around its lackluster meal.

“Zelda,” he tried again, “We… we can’t keep doing this.”

Only her penetrating gaze answered him. _ Doing what? _

“We… we’re going to succeed. We’re going to figure out the riddle, pass the trial, and get to the Spring. Awaken your powers.” His tone was unwavering, even if his face wasn’t. Success wasn’t the issue here. “And then… we’ll return to Hyrule.”

Zelda’s eyes cushioned the blow of his imploring stare. 

After a beat, she offered, “You are not alone in this. I am just as afraid to face off against Ganon as you are. More, perhaps.”

Link shook his head. “That isn’t it.” 

Zelda cocked her head, thoughts swirling. “Then…?”

_ What else? The inevitable. _

“You don’t mean…”

“Zelda, I’m your _ knight attendant. _ Even if the King decides to delay my execution until after I fulfil my destiny, your reputation will be forever tarnished. You aren’t Zelda; You’re Princess Zelda.”

Understanding horror began to settle in Zelda’s gut. Link continued, “This familiarity we have will be sensed, especially with the scrutiny we’re under.”

“Can’t we worry about that when we get there?” Zelda felt something sharp in her throat. 

Link stared at the piles of notes in front of them. “I can’t afford to get comfortable. I lose focus for even a moment, Hyrule will fall. Same goes for you.”

There was nowhere for Zelda to channel this building feeling. Outrage? Anger? Petulance? Sorrow? The worst part was that she couldn’t tell him he was wrong.

Her clenched fist shook while neither of them spoke for a long while. 

“Are we truly going to shrug off the lessons so painstakingly taught to us by the Unity Trials?”

That’s a loaded question, and Link took a long time to parse it. “Zelda… the trials wanted us to work together, that’s all. We’ll still be partners in destiny.”

Even though that was the conclusion they came to, Zelda couldn’t find it in herself to believe it was that one-dimensional. How would she even go about expressing that? 

“Destiny,” she laughed humorlessly. “Guess we really aren’t anything more than our titles. Not in any way that matters.”

She crossed her arms, bitterness swirling in her heart. She wondered why the Goddess would set her up for failure, time and time again. All those times, she just assumed it was some personal fault. Perhaps, truly, the Goddess wanted to thrash her into understanding that she is without her own autonomy. An instrument of fate.

Finally, Link said, “We forgot for a little bit, but we can’t keep pretending. It’s not fair.” Then, he added quietly, “To either of us.”

His tone was one of euthenasia. 

Mercy kill.

It nearly broke Zelda’s spirit.

Link couldn’t watch. The low, steady howl of the pained creature echoed in the halls. Something pulled hard inside him a completely different direction as the creature suddenly fell silent, ears twitching, drawing his stare. 

Zelda’s soft voice yanked him back. “I see…” Her head bowed, fisting the tattered fabric over her heart. Her sadness ebbed away to make space for quiet fury. “I truly have been given something only to have it taken away.”

_ Is this all just some twisted allegory designed to teach me to kill what I love? _

Link couldn’t tell what this feeling was, other than he hated it. He just wanted it to go away.

“Nothing’s really changed. We still have the same goals.”

Zelda barked out a sharp laugh that surprised them, both in volume and bitterness. “Nothing’s changed, then? Is that so?” Link recoiled, feeling that he may have misstepped. She leaned forward, to acquire the ground he lost, “I saw the inner workings of your memories. A literal leap of faith… We manifested _ that _together!” She waved vaguely at the Kittee, which was enormous enough on its own to make her point for her. 

Link swallowed, trying to find a measured answer. “We had no choice.”

Exasperation bared her fangs for her. “That’s not true!” Despite her better judgement, she tossed in a flippant, “The fact that I’m having this conversation after I’d had my fingers in--”

Link cut her off, “It was just sex, Zelda! We guessed wrong!”

Zelda’s fiery gaze suddenly crystallized into hundreds of glacial strata. Link felt a cold wind and thought he was back in Hebra.

The trapdoor to the gallows opened.

Silence howled in their ears like the souls of the damned. 

A distant rumble shook through the castle, startling Link and the Kittee. Zelda heard it, too, but didn’t react. Her world was already shaken.

“Just sex,” she echoed. “So, all that about being worthy…”

Link felt bile rising to his throat, and he couldn’t tell if it was his mounting fear of attack or the silent devastation in her eyes. Words failed him, slipping through his fingers no matter how furiously he grasped at them.

If he comforts her, he’ll only make this harder.

Something quicksilver formed in his eyes, neither liquid nor metal. Link opened his mouth to start a sentence, hoping wildly that the thought would finish itself. “Wait, Zelda, I--”

But he would never get the chance.

Another _ boom _ undulated through the walls. Grand chandeliers above them swayed menacingly.

The barricade blocking the exit rattled violently once, twice. Then was broken in a burst of fluttering pages and splintered wood.

A crazed blue eye scanned through the opening. When it saw them, it turned magenta.


	34. Taken Away

~*~*~*~*~*~

Warm tones of the fire-lit library suddenly erupted into an epileptic light show. Glowing magenta machinery scattered targeting beams, met and matched only by the stark white spotlights of the snarling Kittee’s eyes.

“Link!” Zelda shrieked as he pushed her behind him. 

Faster than the eye could track, Link wielded a sword and shield in defense of the Princess. There was more than one Guardian. Link could move, but he was in no condition to fight; Their ferocious steed was much the same.

The disorienting strobes made it hard to track how many. For all they knew, more could be jammed down the bottleneck of the hallway, ready to replace the first wave. 

A _ ping _ rang out as the first beam launched, and Link flipped the table just in time. It and all of their research went up in flames. “We have to go! Move towards the excavation site!” Link ordered, bracing himself for another blast. He parried it back, only just missing the Guardian’s eye.

“You can’t hold them off in your condition!” Zelda shouted. Link’s adrenaline flooded body reported pain, but he didn’t truly feel it in the moment. “Just run!”

There’s no time to argue! “Go!” He feigned left, slashed right, and inflicted damage in a practiced dance. When he landed, two legs of separate Guardians were severed in a burst of machine parts and screeching metal. But Zelda knew better than to be impressed; He clutched his side and panted, and the fight had only just started.

They can’t be out of sync in a time like this!

Determination tightened Zelda’s valkyric features. With or without his permission, she activated the stasis rune, selected the closest heavy bookcase, and slammed it into the ground just in time to block a third blast. Fiddling with the controls and swinging wildly seemed to work better than nothing, that is until the rune suddenly lost range with the metal object. It smashed into a Guardian so hard that the machine burst into a cloud of metal and miasma.

Zelda gripped the strap of his sword on his back and dragged him away. “Your wounded pride isn’t what’s going to kill us today, _ Hero, _” she snapped. Their eyes met, and the rage in hers felt like another blast to the chest.

She’d bought them some time. The fated trio tore off towards the opposite barricade, Zelda dismantling it with magnesis as they ran. As great as the halls of the castle were, the Kittee still had to duck its head to keep from scraping the ceiling as it hobbled behind the Hylians.

They rounded a corner just in time for a laser to graze one of the Kittee’s golden leaves, exploding it on impact. 

Link knew the castle schematics from heart, and led the way wordlessly. “Link, wait!” Zelda shouted over the deafening noise. “Not this way! We’re gonna--!” The walls were more narrow, which Link thought would be to their advantage. He was wrong. 

Through the Kittee’s legs, they saw the nearest pursuing Guardian heave its awkward body sideways with its tentacles, keeping pace with them. The creature was pinned in the cramped hallway, unable to dodge or weave. 

Building ancient power. Burst of blue.

_ Ding. _

The creature _ shrieked _. The sound was so loud, amplified by the walls around them, Zelda felt hot blood trickle out of her ear. It stank like burning flesh and singed hair. She activated stasis on the Guardian (So stupid! She should have done that sooner! But she was too busy trying to get Link’s attention!) to give the Kittee just enough time to round another corner with them.

They ran between the Kittee’s legs and shut heavy doors behind them. This was one of the antechambers to the excavation site. “Kittee! Sweet thing, I’m so sorry!” Zelda began, but was cut off by the creature whirling on her with a deafening snarl. Panic and rage and pain were read in its blinding white eyes illuminating the space. Claws and fangs swung at her, tail lashing wildly, and Zelda startled backwards onto the floor just in time to miss a paw to the face that could easily have killed her.

Link yanked her back to her feet by her arm. _ No time! _

He was right. There was loud banging on the other side of the doors. The Hylians ran with their crippled steed behind them, the spat seemingly forgotten. The solid wood splintered and exploded, and a beam shot just a few millimeters shy of the three of them, exploding on the far wall.

Any further in any direction, and that beam would have…

Never mind that!

The Hylians were far faster than the Kittee, even with their tiny little legs. Zelda locked the Guardian in stasis again, blocking the path of two other Guardians behind it. Their eerie eyes kept tracking their targets.

The anteroom connected to the site proper; Wooden support beams, though hardy, showed how much haste the kingdom showed in extracting all Sheikah technology after signs of Ganon’s return became apparent. Haste made underground is dangerous, even in the most capable hands.

A beam targeted for Link whirled right by him, blowing his hair back as he dodged. It landed squarely on one of these beams, exploding the wood like shrapnel and licking malicious flames up to the rafters. The stoney cavern growled like a slumbering beast. 

Waking it would spell disaster.

Finally, Link had enough space to get a clear shot without hitting the creature. His royal guard’s bow twanged beautifully, his arrow true, and struck the eye of the Guardian with devastating force before it could fire off another laser.

He expertly fired two more shots, stunning the next wave of oncoming attacks. They might have just enough time…!

“Run!” he shouted to Zelda. “Kittee will follow you!”

Zelda wanted to argue. But the Kittee was already so injured, and at this rate, she wasn’t sure that it would be able to walk. It’s the key to solving this entire trial! Grudgingly, Zelda clenched her fists and did as she was told. 

Link’d drive to protect Zelda was so strong that it manifested in the Kittee, exactly as he predicted. It limped to keep her pace as she forced herself not to look back. Link is competent. Link knows what he’s doing. He’s the Hero! She has no choice but to trust him--

Bow twangs. Arrows flying. Powering beams. _ Ding! _

She got far enough away that the magenta lights were only estranged reflections on the stones when she stopped. Link wasn’t behind her? What was he doing?! Should she go back?

Then, the explosion happened. Flames burgeoned through the small space like air through bellows. Zelda had failed to take notice of the fact that this was an _ excavation _ site, which meant that there were barrels of explosives. Kittee crouched low, ears flat, and fangs flaring in terror. The sickly sweet scent of burning sugar from the nitroglycerine made Zelda’s eyes water.

“Link!” she cried out, desperate for an answer.

Crashing, crumbling rocks were heard and felt, but Zelda couldn’t see anything through the dust and smoke. The Kittee, though, suddenly fell silent, then took off in the opposite direction as fast as it could go. It knew something she didn’t.

Link appeared out of the flames, coughing loudly, and Zelda’s heart soared.

Then fell. The stone cavern wouldn’t stop growling, an ever-hungry beast. It was collapsing! She saw more barrels of explosives around her. If something falls on any of them while they’re around… 

Zelda sprinted after the Kittee, with Link hot on her heels. She was right! Like a domino effect, the ceiling collapsed behind them, setting off more explosives and continuing the cycle. She couldn’t tell if the machines were still there, but they seemed like the least of their worries.

“We’ll be crushed!” she cried.

No, they won’t. Not as long as they make it to--

The ceiling just behind them shuddered under its own weight. Before Zelda even realized what was happening, Link threw himself bodily at her, completely wrapping her in his embrace. They skidded on the coarse stone, but Zelda didn’t feel it. Rocks crumbled just behind them, two final support beams collapsing onto one another to form a saltire cross. 

Link panted heavily next to her ear, his hands trembling as they continued to protect her head. In the sudden silence, the sounds of their heartbeats were enough to echo.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling away just enough to look at her.

His warm hands, gentle yet capable.. His body against hers, making her feel safe. His blue eyes staring down at her, weighty with care and concern and adrenaline.

It hurt to look at. She swatted off his hands and sat up. “Yes, fine.” She stood and forced her aching body to continue. “No time to linger. Something tells me they won’t stop.”

There was a dance of something on his face that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Link composed himself, jogging at her side as he caught his breath. They’d made it-- The Primary Excavation Site. The support system here was different, he knew, from that of the tunnels connecting it to the castle.

A veritable goldmine of Sheikah relics, the enormous cavern was dense with technology and structures that weren’t deemed worthy of total extraction. Luminous stones lined the walls, glowing from behind waterfalls that fell into a murky abyss. Kittee was just ahead on the bridge above this nauseating drop, roaring and wild. Its good hind leg gave out when it tried to get closer to them; Its heavy body dropped to the stone.

The sound it made broke Zelda’s heart.

The Hylians quickly caught up, and this time Zelda didn’t hesitate. “Shh, shh, come now, Kittee,” she hushes sweetly. She had to really steel her frayed nerves as the enormous predator snarled in her face. Taking Link’s lesson from before, Zelda studiously ignored her terror and gently reached out her hand to its drooling, snarling face. Being so close to its eyes was like staring into the sun.

It snapped at her, but didn’t bite. 

Then, just as before, it softened beneath her firm, trusting touch. It whimpered pitifully as she rounded its shaky body, both hands placed on top of its hind leg. She closed her eyes, tapping into the deepest reserves of whatever faith she held left.

When she opened them, she saw it.

No change.

The indigo blood clung tacky and viscous to her palms. The creature snarled under a wave of agony. “L-Link…?” came Zelda’s quivering voice. “D-did I do it wrong? What did you do last time? Why isn’t it working?”

Link’s face was twisted in pain he was clearly trying to suppress. He grunted as his over-addled brain tried to work out the puzzle. “What…? It should--” He coughed lightly, and decided to take a crack at it himself. The animal winced at the touch, but even with them both _ trusting _ at it as hard as they could, it made no difference.

“B-but it worked before! In Gerudo Town, a-and Hyrule field! And at the docks!” Zelda could hardly contain her panic. She raked her hand through her tangled hair, “It’s injuries are just as grievous now as they were then, but-- But then, I had managed to at least stop the bleeding!”

_ Awoooo _ sobbed the echoes in the cavern.

“Please, Kittee! You’ve got to stand up. We’re so close! We can solve the trial and then--”

And then.

And then what?

_ We’ll return to Hyrule. _

_ There’s no point delaying it any longer, Princess. _

_ Guess I really have been given something only to have it taken away. _

Pain twisted Link’s features again, but this time it was different. He stood and moved to the creature’s face, gently resting his tiny hands on its curdled forehead. The creature’s neck craned to rasp a sweet lick at his scraped legs. Zelda watched, struck silent by the tender exchange.

Link whispered something in its ear that she couldn’t hear. By some miracle, the animal strained with all of its strength on its two good paws, and slowly stood. The least damaged of its hind legs trembled with the effort.

The small, bittersweet smile on Link’s face was heart-wrenching.

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Like this, they continued towards the final leg of their journey. The end was so, so close in their sights. 

_ Just let this be over. _ Zelda couldn’t take any more of this-- The creature’s wounded sounds, the proud way that Link hid his own injuries, the cursed glowing Sheikah blue luminous stones (she gets it already), the bitterness thick like swamp-gas in the air. All of it!

She gets it, Goddess. Loud and clear! Sacrificing the only things in her life that give it any meaning is the only way she’ll be Fate’s good little blunt instrument. The fact that Link is better at it doesn’t make him wrong. When the trials end, _ this _ ends.

It just hurts how quickly he seemed to accept that. What a skill he had, to surrender completely to things outside his control. 

She knows she’ll have to do the same. Just let her go home and bathe and cry in peace.

The bridge connected to a central island of land, which in turn branched off in four more directions, each to their own little maze of tunnels and eventually other antechambers to the castle. Link had to wrack his memory for the layout, but Zelda seemed confident in which route to take to reach the Astral Observatory.

The Kittee just barely managed to keep up with their walking pace. “Not much longer,” Zelda assured the animal. It may have been her imagination, but some expression of relief seemed to reach its yellow eyes. “We need only cross this bridge, then continue up into the Astral Observatory Antechamber.”

The animal didn’t understand, but it liked the sound of her voice. Giant golden whiskers tickled Zelda’s ear, and she petted the Kittee’s shoulder encouragingly.

Link didn’t react.

The distant waterfalls hushed them, even though no-one spoke.

Zelda swallowed the lump in her throat. She might have an idea as to why their healing efforts hadn’t worked…

She opened her mouth to say so, but was interrupted. Flashing lights. The Kittee’s ears swiveled, eyes strobing on-off-on-off at some unheard sound. It crouched low, fangs flaring and claws curling into the stone bridge. The Hylians stopped, listening, waiting. 

“...Kittee?” hedged Zelda.

Its low growl rolled through them menacingly. Link understood, even if he couldn’t hear it too. “We need to pick up the pace.”

Zelda nodded and jogged at Link’s side. The creature hobbled as fast as it could, tail thrashing and anger steadily bubbling back onto its fierce face. “I don’t understand… They showed no signs of object permanence during my examinations. The fact that they’re attacking us is strange enough on its own, but to be able to _ search _ for a target isn’t a function that I’d ever found in their coding indexes.”

Link didn’t answer her.

“Maybe the light of the creature isn’t the beacon, but the creature’s existence itself. That would mean…” She left the thought etherized in the air between them. If the Kittee is _ them _ and the Guardians are _ pain/violence/heartache/sacrifice _, then the Goddess is trying to tell them that it will follow them no matter where they go.

Ugh. So on the nose. _ I get it! _

Still, Link didn’t react. Zelda wanted to throttle him.

_ Nothing’s changed. We’ll still be partners in destiny. _

Fine! Partners in destiny, then. Let’s at least act like professionals. She didn’t want to say anything, wanted to leave this wound to fester without the sting of first aid, but she forced herself to speak for the sake of the wounded Kittee. “Link, I think I know why our healing efforts were unsuccessful.”

That at least got him to look at her. What a consolation prize.

“Based on all of the information we’ve gathered here, I’m decently certain that it has to do with our--”

The Kittee snarled loudly in surprise at the earth-shaking _ boom _ from deep inside the stone walls. The stone bridge beneath them swayed like gelatin, cracks forming along the weakest seams in the structure. Plumes of fiery explosions burst from tunnel entrances in the distance. From them emerged writhing magenta riders of death. Crunch-crunch-crunching of metal tentacles into stone fought for dominance with their furious whirring. 

“Guardians!”

They were so close to the central island of land! The stone bridge beneath them cracked. It crumbled into bludgeoning chunks, decay and destruction hot on their heels. Kittee howled as the bridge beneath its paws gave way. With a weak kick, it managed to cross the very last stretch before landing on solid ground. 

One last burst to the Anteroom! That’s all Link needs to give them. They’re so close!

_ Think. Focus. _

Time slowed down. While Zelda urged the Kittee towards the Astral Observatory Anteroom, Link tried to count how many he was up against. Three bridges, delivering lines of Guardians over them in single-file. Seemingly endless. The earthquake they caused their bridge to fall apart-- maybe he could do the same to theirs! Cut off their entry!

Link brandished his shield. In a blaze of battle prowess, he rushed one of the bridges, holding his nerve until the last moment with all of those tracking beams on him. When he heard the _ Ping, _ he broke into a series of backflips and dodges, feeling the wind _ whirr _right by him from the web of lasers. He landed on crumbling stone and quickly retreated back to the island of land.

The bridge before him fell apart. Guardians clambered over each other homicidally, only to fall to their deaths. Two more!

Link’s skin was hot, but not burned. He was lucky to be grazed. He continued feigning, dodging, but there were so many! Despite his instructions, Zelda couldn’t help but pause to see what was happening. Her awe at his skill and intelligence was quickly replaced by terror. 

There’s no way that he can get them to take out all three bridges in time! The Guardians are advancing too quickly. “Link! You have to run!” She shrieks her voice hoarse just to be heard. “There’s too many!”

Even all the skill and bravery in the world didn’t negate his injuries. Link stumbled, lost his focus, lost his footing. He barely managed to pull up his shield in time to block an incoming beam that nearly tore his arm off with it. Flames plumed all around him, and left behind a badly damaged shield in its wake. One more hit and it would be gone. 

His body couldn’t withstand another blast and he knew it.

Faster. Focus. You can do this.

Zelda wasn’t the only one watching on in horror. Kittee hesitated, as if caught between its panic and its duty.

He goaded another round of shots at the next bridge, disconnecting it from the island in a blaze of glory. Just one more--

He was too late.

The Guardians were upon him. He sent three rapid-fire arrows, feigned and dodged, danced and whirled his blade through their legs. What Guardians were stunned were just stepping stones for more to climb over, fully intent on blasting him into ashes. 

They surrounded him, until he couldn’t see anything but skyscraping colossi of malice. He parkoured over one, two of them, released an arrow while he was in midair. But that airtime is a double-edged sword, because in his hyper-focus, he saw the fresh point-blank beam headed directly at him. There’s no dodging this. 

He hid his face behind his shield. The blast landed, blowing him backwards and shattering his shield.

Link was ragdolled across the arena, skidding to a halt a short distance in front of the Kittee. The owl-necked machines rotated their heads to watch him while they powered up again. Link moaned in pain, and tossed aside the grip of his now-shattered shield. 

He was too late. There’s no point in blowing out the bridge now. He’d have to rely on arrows. A Guardian locked in stasis. Right, and the Sheikah slate, too. 

Wait, no! Not the Sheikah slate! Zelda has that. “I said GO, Zelda!” he barked.

“Kittee won’t follow!” cried Zelda, desperately hauling the Kittee’s tail with all of her strength.

Link didn’t have time to let confusion set it. He rolled and sat up, gritting his teeth with the effort. Just behind him, the wounded creature crouched, roaring menacingly at their attackers.

Then, to his surprise, he felt teeth in his shoulder. Link cried out as massive fangs yanked him backwards. He landed on the stone, disoriented at the blanket of nothing but soft blue above him. He realized at this moment that his shoulder was uninjured, and that the Kittee crouched low and protective above him. 

Zelda yelped, and her skull nearly cracked his as she was thrown bodily next to him by the creature’s lashing tail. 

“Kittee! What’re you--”

The creature hunkered down over them at the _ ding _. Audio cue of impending beam. They felt the creature recoil, its howl of agony transmitted directly into their skulls. “Hey!” Link barked, and smacked the barrel of the creature’s chest. “I told you to go!”

It only earned him another messy snarl. It was hard to see what was happening, but they were surrounded by metal tentacles. The Kittee lashed out violently, crunching metal beneath its claws and sending a machine flying. 

Another beam. The creature landed bodily on top of its Hylian brood. It should have crushed them, but the creature had some innate knowledge of how to protect, like a shewolf with her pups. It expected to be hit, but it wasn’t going to abandon them.

The horrible sounds of agony rang in Zelda’s ears. Blue-black blood dripped down the creature’s side, pooling at Zelda’s side. 

Another beam. shot out. The animal’s scream curdled their blood.

“Enough!” cried Link desperately. He rose onto shaky legs, taking Zelda’s hand to lead her towards the Anteroom. A golden tail whipped their legs out from under them, forcing them to stay right where they were.

It… 

It knows what it’s doing.

It’s protecting them. Because it knows there’s no other option.

Link didn’t have a clear shot, but still sent what arrows he could to help the Kittee’s efforts. The feline lashed wildly, careful only in the way that it didn’t crush its Hylians. Machines burst in clouds of malice. There was too much chaos to see whether or not the Kittee was winning.

Zelda tried to assist using stasis, but the device was rendered useless; The Kittee covered its entire field of vision and made it impossible to select a Guardian.

Tears clawed up Zelda’s throat. “Please… please, that’s enough. We’ve gotta go…”

Kittee’s lame hind legs gave out again, leaving the creature half on its side. There was no going. Another beam brutalized the back of the creature’s neck. The targeting beams found Link and Zelda huddled against its side, lining their golden heads in red.

Link’s perfectly focused face broke. There was a look in his eye that Zelda wasn’t sure she'd seen before.

Blood and flames sprayed in wide arcs. The sickening smell of burning flesh and coppery blood made bile turn in Zelda’s stomach. Her entire body was stained indigo. She glanced up to see the constellation of Zelda’s Gaze run black with with the animal’s blood.

Link and Zelda clutched onto one another, the blood gluing their bodies together. Any attempt to flee was thwarted-- either by Kittee, or by Link’s injuries. 

“Please…” Zelda whimpered, inaudible over the fighting. “Please, just make it stop.”

Tears spilled over her cheeks, tracking through the blood and soot and dirt. Link’s grip on her tightened. Another trebuchet of ancient energy hit the wounded animal. Zelda felt sick. She buried her face in Link’s chest and clutched onto him like a lifeline. “Please… I can’t lose any more. Don’t take everything. I have nothing left. _ Please. _”

Link’s chest did something she didn’t understand.

“Haven’t I given enough? Am I ever going to be enough?”

Link’s hand tightened around her head. She sobbed into the body of the man who isn’t hers. She’s nothing but fate’s voodoo doll. Except every pin in her goes into those around her.

_ Awoooo! _

The mournful sound broke her. 

It was then that the creature curled in tighter on itself, into the tightest ball it could. Its soft breath on her hair brought Zelda to open her eyes. The creature stared back, dim white eyes unblinking. What it was thinking, or if it was thinking at all, was impossible to tell, lost somewhere in the span of species and millennia. 

A low, sad sound. 

Its nose bumped their faces gently. Then it pulled away, its eyes glowing brighter than before. The targeting beams all focused on Link and Zelda, now that their shot was cleared again. But their red lights were drowned out, and Zelda felt it just as much as saw it.

Brilliant white light, not just from the eyes of the creature, but the body as well.

It expanded in a circle, engulfed the Hylians, the Guardians, the island of rock, all the way out to the farthest reaches of the massive cavern. Luminous stones were rendered dim in the divine light.

“What-- Ah!” Zelda and Link had to cover their eyes or risk searing their retinas. 

Guardians buzzed and sputtered, malice sucked clean out of their vessels. When the light finally, finally receded, they caught the very last sparks of divine energy leaving the Kittee’s eyes.

Empty vessels sat vacant-eyed where the Guardians once had been.

Perfect silence.

The light was gone.

The battlefield was completely cleared of enemies in a single blow. Was that an example of the divine light she was to acquire? How did the creature weild it? Zelda awed aloud, "Wow... that was amazing! What was th--"

Kittee’s body went slack, the last of its strength depleted. Its heavy jaw clattered as it fell to the floor, splashing into its own pool of blood.

Zelda's heart stopped. 

_No... _

“Kittee…?” Zelda whimpered, sitting up on her knees to inspect her friend. Zelda pushed the creature’s slackened face. “H-hey… what happened?”

No response. Ugly, violent panic bubbled up inside her, asphyxiating. 

_No, no, no, no...!_

Its vacant eyes stared forward at nothing. “Kittee… wake up," Zelda pleaded. Tears blurred her vision. Blood soaked her legs where she sat. "Kittee, please wake up." She lifted its heavy paw in her hands, pressing the soft pads. Dim yellow claws curled then retracted, but it wasn't the animal's doing. The creature did not stir. "Please! Wake up!"

Her face contorted in agony, her molars ground together, and her voice broke, "Get up! Please! We have to go now. WAKE UP!"

The soft paw she held in her lap didn't so much as twitch. 

She turned glittering emerald eyes to Link, tears darkening the stone floor as they fell from her chin. The look on his face stole away her breath.

His ear was to the creature’s chest, listening.

Link’s stoicism creaked under the weight of his heart. He couldn’t bear to say it to Zelda, not with her looking at him like that. Not with how he’d already hurt her so much…

Link swallowed, and shook his head. He didn’t hear a heartbeat. His lips tried to form the words_ I’m sorry _, but failed. Zelda’s wore a look of complete devastation for the second time that day.

Slowly, in the way that body heat leaves a frostbitten hiker, the soft blue glow of the Kittee slipped away. Dimmer, dimmer, dimmer.

Darker, darker, darker.

Zelda was wrong:

All stars eventually burn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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I know I keep saying this, but I genuinely can't thank my readers enough for all of your invaluable feedback. I have a tendency to be incredibly hard on myself and my skills as a writer, but every time I'm being mean to me, you guys always seem to be able to bring me out of it. This story is just as much yours as it is mine <3


	35. Temporary

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nothing.

The aggressive kind of nothing, the kind that takes.

Absolute, all-consuming, cosmic nothing.

That’s the kind of nothing that was left.

In the waning blue light, Link watched Zelda desperately struggle to lift the animal’s heavy head, smearing more of its own blood all over its face. It’s empty eyes stared past her. Zelda shouted something into them, her teeth clenched and eyes wild. Still, it remained unmoved.

The shoreline of blood expanded ever-wider from the still body, consuming all it touched in blackness. Gaunt glow from the luminous stones reflected Link’s warped image back in it: Expressionless. Empty.

Link’s foreign hands trembled, feeling wax-dipped in the still-warm, treacly substance. The blood... It clung to him. His hair, his face, his hands, his eyes, his soul.

Zelda threw her head back and screamed. No sound came out.

The empty Guardians stared at them. Suddenly, Link has everything in common with them. All the parts present, but devoid of any light.

Zelda pressed her forehead against the Kittee’s, her tears darkening its fur. Link should feel something. Link should comfort her. He should say something, _ anything. _ Somewhere, some part of him wants to. But that part, too, is bleeding out on the stone.

Kittee’s dead.

It died defending them. It sacrificed itself for them. For _ him. _

Because it knew he’d die trying. Link is the reason this happened. It’s his fault.

_ My fault. _

Without Kittee, they won’t complete the trial. Zelda won’t get her powers. Hyrule is gone. His duty to his Princess and his Kingdom…

He failed.

Zelda was yelling. At him. Her voice sounded underwater.

He failed.

Everything… all of this. It was all for nothing.

“_ Link! _ For Goddess’ sake, say something!! Please!” she begged.

He heard the words that time, but they were in the wrong language. His mouth palpated the idea of a word like a toddler.

Zelda’s hand slapped the ground, blood splashing around them. Kittee had done that too. Kittee slapped the ground. And now it’s gone.

“**Link!!**” Zelda shrieked, “What is wrong with you?!” Suddenly, she was a lot closer. In his face. She had a little bit of blood in her teeth. She pushed his chest, and he fell back with a sticky splash. “How can you not be upset?!”

He felt tug something at that. Like a star at the event horizon of a black hole.

“Always the stoic knight! Look what stoicism got us!” She gestured wildly to the cooling corpse. “That beast was a manifestation of _ you and I _ , Link! And we’ve let it die! It was our only chance to get out of here! To _ save Hyrule! _ We spent all that time being taught to trust each other, only for you to backhand all of our progress at the end! For what? For your fucking _ deluded sense of duty?!” _

Link felt wet droplets hit his face: blood or her spit or both.

“Look at what your sense of duty has done, Link! I said that your knightley-ness is endearing in _ small doses _! I thought you’d gotten it-- I thought you learned it! But it was all just-- just--”

A glittering tear dropped from her chin into the blood pool, opalescent like petroleum.

“‘We’re more than our titles.’ Those are your words, Link! Yours! What happened to that?” Her overwhelming grief poured thick and salty down her face, dripped like venom in her voice. Link knew he should react. Should say something. She’s right. Every word. Each one should cut deep. Why doesn’t it hurt?

Why is he so numb? It’s like he’s watching this world through a fishbowl.

What’s wrong with him?

She beat uselessly on his chest with her fists. “Why doesn’t this hurt you? Why doesn’t _ anything _ hurt you? Do you even care?”

He does. He _ does _care. That’s why he’s numb right now. He has to keep moving. He can’t sit here with her and this corpse. He has to keep going. There has to be a way to fix this. Some way to overcome this. Some way to right this wrong. Some way to save her.

Link’s body moved on its own, a marionette strung up by the Spirit of the Hero that supposedly lives within him.

“Wh-where are you going?”

Link didn’t answer. He only attempted to haul the enormous creature towards the Astral Observatory. It was far, far too heavy to budge. It doesn’t matter. The stars on its body had died anyway. 

“Link… Stop that! Are you listening?!”

His legs moved on their own. This shaky, wounded meat-suit of his managed to make steady progress towards the Observatory. He didn’t know why. Had no plan what he would do when he got there. He just moved, his mind completely empty.

Stone. Darkness. Antechamber. Big doors.

Link opened them.

The Observatory was a huge half-dome, covered in glowing Sheikah-blue stars in every direction. Along the base of the walls was the illustration of Hyrule’s history like a glittering tapestry. It was probably pretty. Link had no idea. 

He stumbled, undead, into the center of the empty room. 

There’s nothing here. No puzzle to solve. Just a circle in the ancient material floor marking the exact center. It was about Kittee-sized.

That was it. His very, very last hope. Gone. There’s only one key to unlock this trial, and it lay in a pool of its own blood.

Eons and eons of history stared down at him. All those Heroes and Princesses, all those incredible events etched into time, all of their sacrifices and triumphs and sorrows… It was all so that Hyrule would survive.

And now they’re looking at the weakest link.

The Hero who failed.

All of the grand history they built with blood and tears… it was all for nothing.

Link fell to his knees, staring up into the artificial sky. He was so, so small. He’s one man, crushed beneath the weight of an ever-expanding universe. Why was the Goddess so naive as to put her faith in one person? Prop him up, call him a Hero, and then abandon him? Why set him up for failure?

Maybe Hylia had grown tired of the pressure, too.

That, at least, he could understand.

He heard a soft, tentative voice behind him. He didn’t realize he wasn’t alone.

“Link…?”

The concern in Zelda’s eyes exsanguinated him. Even with how much pain she’s in, even though it’s all his fault, even though he _ failed _, she’s still looking at him like he matters in the face of any of that.

She hesitates for a moment, then braves a tentative step forward. 

In the dark room, visible only by starlight, with her fist over her heart, she was beautiful. Hyrule was beautiful, too, and it’s gone. The Kittee was beautiful, and it’s gone. 

What they had was beautiful, and it’s gone.

The Princess he failed knelt before him, her knees touching his. Her blood-streaked hair fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head at him. Tears slipped down her cheek, but her breath, her eyes, her being was steady and strong. 

Gently, she reached out, and wiped the tears from under his eye.

Tears?

He hadn’t realized he was crying.

They came forth with a new fervor, as if her tender touch broke some invisible surface-tension. “It’s…” His voice creaked under the tense convulsions of his ribs, his last wall of sandbags to hold off an oncoming tsunami. “It’s all my fault. I wasn’t good enough. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

He ground his molars together, snarling at his fists clenched on his knees.

“It’s because I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t handle it…” Link hung his head, his matted hair falling over his face. Tears reflected the starlight as they fell. “You were right. We were being forced to love something just to watch it die. We were set up. I couldn’t take it… Couldn’t take knowing that when we go back...”

He heard Zelda’s sharp gasp. Link’s body trembled with the force of keeping it together.

“It just hurt so much… I thought, maybe, it would be easier if I just-- just accepted it faster. Felt less. Focused on what needs to be done. I didn’t want to face going back… I couldn’t…”

His eyes lifted to Zelda’s, watched the slow dawn of understanding in them. Entire galaxies stared back at him. His throat clenched, stealing his breath. Memories assaulted him, memories of her laughter, her warm body against his, her impish smile, her shrewd stare. _ You’re kind to everyone but yourself. She’s lucky to have you in any capacity. I wanted to be worthy. We’re more than just our titles. Bet you twenty rupees. _

Temporary happiness.

“Zelda I…” The sorrow in Link’s eyes begged Zelda to understand. “I couldn’t bear losing you.”

Link finally broke. 

Sobs wracked his battered body. He pressed his palms to his eyes, hunching over on himself as he was bombarded by every bottled-up, suppressed emotion he’d managed to sedate all this time. The unfairness, the frustration, his grief, his weakness, his fear.

His loneliness.

Zelda gaped down at him, floored. “Wait, so…” Grief clogged up her mind, thoughts sinking into an unseen bog as she struggled to understand. 

_ We can’t keep pretending. It’s not fair… To either of us. _

She was wrong: This _ did _ hurt him. The patter-patter of tears on the ancient floor sounded like nails driving home this point. When faced with pain and pressure, he did what he always does: bear it silently. Remain cold and professional. Lock down, clam up. 

Falling mute isn’t just about not speaking.

“So that’s why you…” How could she not have realized? It was so plain to see. What else was she expecting? That he’d suddenly change who he was? Zelda should know better. She had been guilty of it at one point, too. She could hear her own words echo back to her:

_ Because I knew that once these trials were over, I would be forced to say goodbye. I made an effort not to grow too attached. _

Link keened in agony.

“I _ failed. _ I’m sorry,” was all he could say, muffled into his palms, again and again. Over and over. _ I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry. _

He felt soft hands on his shoulders, but his body would not stop what it had started. Choked whimpers barely escaped his bottle-necked throat, wringing his heart like a wet rag. So weak! So, so weak! He had absolutely no control-- not over himself, not over his situation, not over a single cursed thing! His inner-ear let him know he was falling forward, and he welcomed the face-plant into the floor. At this point, nothing would be more fitting.

But instead of hitting the ground, he landed face-first into Zelda’s embrace.

Her heaving, sobbing breaths fanned through his hair. She clutched onto him like she was afraid he’d float away. Like she was dangling off a cliff, holding on for dear life. Like the entire universe was trying to pull them apart. There’s truth to all three.

“Link…” she huffed, something between a sob and a laugh, “I shouldn’t have blamed you like that. I- I didn’t realize… It’s not your fault. I’m sorry, too. We tried… We tried our best.” 

A beat of hesitation, then Link’s hands lifted to her and returned the embrace. The strength of his grasp was breath-taking, their sobs syncing to one another. 

Unforgiving stars glared down at them from above. But here, wrapped in each other, their cruel apathy hurt a little less.

There was nothing to say. Nothing either could say to make this better. Though, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try. They separated just enough to look each other in the eye and tried to read the other’s mind. This time, they succeeded.

Zelda’s hand gently cupped his chin. Her thumb swiped away another tear from his cheek and the fragile knight croaked, leaning into her palm. So much tenderness… he wasn’t deserving. He wasn’t worthy. She should still be yelling at him. That would be called for. 

Her sad smile was heartstopping.

Words failed him. He didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that she was the only good thing left. Her touch and her warmth and her smile and her voice and her kindness-- it was all too much. His eyes dropped to her lips, back up. 

A star-soaked moment.

There, in this awful, infinite, glittering corner of the cosmos, she was the only beautiful thing to be seen. Her gentle hands in his hair stole Link’s breath from his lungs. Their foreheads touched, sniffling breaths mingling, seeking warmth however they could in the cold vacuum of space.

Their lips touched, warm-- So warm. Cabin and hearth in Hebra winter; Healing hot springs after a night shivering. It bloomed and coursed through weary veins, and it felt like the first time. Better, because it was in some ways the first time. Worse, because it also felt like the last time.

Because it was the last time.

Last time.

So, so briefly, he’d forgotten that he’d failed. They failed the trial. Hyrule is no more. The grand, crippling irony was that trying to protect his heart _ and _ Hyrule meant he protected neither. It only resulted in this-- this cosmic executioner’s block they’re trapped on, waiting for the fall of the axe.

This observatory was nothing more than the basket meant to catch their rolling heads.

Zelda made him forget that.

Zelda had made him forget that he was the Hero, too, for a time. _ How _ he wants that. Never more acutely did he desire anything. Too big, too great for any string of words to capture the breadth of his need for-- for-- 

Link groaned against her mouth and pressed forward, his hands gripping the nape of her neck. Zelda’s answering sigh panged a roiling wave of arousal through his gut.

That’s it. They’re done for.

They surged forward and kissed with all of the desperation of two people drowning: doomed, selfish, breathless.

The Princess and the Hero, lost in time and space.

Their hands tangled in one another’s hair. Gasping sobs and heaving sniffles had to accommodate moans of pleasure. There’s nothing left. Hyrule is gone. His world is gone. It’s all gone, but Zelda’s here, and she’s the only thing as strong as his grief. And her lips are as warm as her heart, and her hands are gripping him like an oyster grips a stone for fear of being washed away with the crashing surf. 

The steel of the sword strapped to his back sang as it hit the floor, followed closely by his bow and quiver. Link gives under Zelda’s weight until he’s laying on his back. She eclipses the canvas of blue stars behind her. Even in the dark, she outshines them. 

He knows he’s in pain, but somehow, it only serves as a foil to Zelda’s overwhelming _ goodness. _

There’s no point anymore. All that restraint, that repression, that punishing perfectionism he subjected himself to is null and void. He’s not a Knight anymore, and he’s certainly no-one’s Hero. And who is he without those two entities within him? Nothing. An empty husk.

A body. A mammal craving touch and comfort.

“More Guardians will come,” Zelda says to his throat.

“Let them.”

The Goddess held no punches when it came to driving home how endless their plight would be. They would never stop. Violence and fear shadow them. It’s their destiny.

Let him just have this. This last crumb of control. 

Let him have _ her. _ Just a little bit longer.

> _ “Do you wanna come with? We’re mortifying our favorite knight.” _ _  
_ _ “Grr-reow?” _ _  
_ _ “Is that so?” Zelda squeaked. Kittee sniffs, then bonks its head into her knuckles. “Eee! Link! Link! Look!” Her huge smile was so beautiful. _

He’d never see it again. Link wanted to kiss away the tears. Make it all better. To see her smile again. He tried, but wherever his mouth went, hers followed.

They rolled on their sides, cold floor to one ear and even colder stars to the other. Zelda’s hand held his hips to hers, their entwined legs belaying them together like a lifeline. Grief and arousal did not play nice together, his body and soul were caught in the crossfire. Neither knew what tears belonged to whom, and neither cared.

It was messy. It was disgusting. Sweat and tears and filth made no two touches consistently matte or gloss. The fallen creature’s blood clung to nearly every inch of their skin, rubbed and flaked and chafed sickeningly. Blond strands were heavy with it. It was everywhere: in his eyes, in his mouth, curling black ribbons under his fingernails as they dragged down Zelda’s back.

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. He wanted to never let her go.

> _ Zelda, in her bed, laughing until tears streamed down her cheeks, clutching her belly. Just when she thinks she has regained composure, she looks up to see his face, and loses it all over again. “Kittee, I love you, but your timing is atrocious.” _

He’d never get to hear that sound again. His only chance no longer had a heartbeat.

Link’s grief rose in another wave, his hand pushing up under her tattered top to palm her breast. Zelda’s moan was just as desperate, her hips keening forward into his. Their teeth clacked, and her nails bit holy fire into the fleshy gore on his side.

At the noise of pain he made, she flinched away. “Sorry! Did I hurt y--”

“Don’t care,” he growled, then bit her lip.

Zelda whimpered and ground her hips against his, and the stars above them whirled as if they, too, were drunk on the feeling. It felt _ good. _ Like some sort of teenage rebellion against a world that wanted to pigeonhole them into roles too narrow, tasks too big, heartache too heavy. 

Take that, universe.

They knew retribution would be swift and severe. No one steps out of the lanes of destiny and survives. Feeling Zelda’s vocal cords vibrate under his lips will forever be worth the punishment. On the floor like this, ears to the ancient stone, they could hear the groan of the castle foundations, the distant sound of encroaching danger.

“Link...” Zelda sobbed.

“I know.”

They were coming. There’s a time-limit. Link just rolled her on her back and seared her with a kiss designed to distract from incoming death. His knee sleuced between her thighs, grinding against her core, bathing in her heady whimpers. In retribution, her hand pushed under the waistband of his pants and gripped the girth of him hard enough to shock him into stillness. He hissed a string of sibilant curses against her neck and rutted helplessly into her grip.

“_ Fuck, _Zelda, I--” he panted brokenly.

“I know.”

And her hand ghosted down his spine so, _ so _tenderly, and a fresh wave of tears and grief and rawness sprang to his eyes, so he kissed her fervently. As if he could communicate everything he himself didn’t understand through his hands, his lips, his knee grinding against her.

Shaking, shivering, completely overwrought, astounded by their own fear. But afraid _ together. _

“Link… I want you. Please…” Zelda’s hands tugged down the waistband of his pants. Her watery green eyes reflected a thousand constellations, “Please, just one last time…”

Link’s heart clenched. He nodded.

It all happened quickly after that: Link needed only to pull lightly for Zelda’s tattered top to come apart, their blood-caked pants discarded nearly as quickly. Link’s entire being sang at the feel of skin on skin, even if vitiligo patches of flaked blood still separated them. 

How was she, even in this destitute purgatory of starlight, so beautiful?

Zelda’s spine arched, and Link’s arm slipped under, as if to catch her. Of their own accord, her ankles locked behind his narrow hips, as natural and as deadly and as mesmerizing as two trapeze artists dancing above an abyss.

Somehow, they caught each other, but kept on falling.

Link shuddered at the unyielding heat and wetness of her. One hand supporting his weight, the other guiding himself to her, Link tried to move slow, careful not to hurt her. Zelda was having none of that. Her heels dug into his back, jolting his hips forward all the way into her in one slick movement.

Their relieved moans echoed from all directions.

Link’s eyes rolled back in his skull, and there he only saw more of her, more sparkling green eyes, more starlit curves, more bittersweet affection. Her body tightened around him, so hot and wet and, “Perfect--” he breathed, “Zelda, _ goddess, _ you’re perfect.”

She answered him with a broken noise and a vehement roll of her hips. Tears streamed from her eyes and into her wild halo of hair on the floor. Link groaned, his body reacting with what blood it had managed not to lose. Even with the vicious, rising need for release screaming in his ears, even with Zelda’s merciless goading, he didn’t want to-- Didn’t want to pick up the pace. He wanted it to last. 

It’s the last time. He wants to make it count.

But Zelda can hear the distant sounds through the floor: the tell-tale crunching of stone beneath mechanical tentacles. They don’t have that luxury.

“Link,” she sobbed into his ear. The burst of hot air made him shiver. “Please…”

Her thumbs dug into the crests of his hips hard enough to bruise. The muscles around him clenched cruelly, like she was making sure he could never leave. Link’s teeth creaked under the weight of his jaw, until, finally, he relented. 

After all, he never was ever any good at saying no to her.

He moved in long, deliberate strokes, driving into her until her eyes rolled back. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on whatever they could find-- his back, his chest, his arms, the ancient stone. In the dim light, she could see the coil of sinewy muscles, the lust-blown pupils ringed with glowing blue staring down at her a heady mix of reverence and heartbreak. Their eyes met, and Link had to shut his eyes against a fresh blow of emotion.

His tears landed fat and heavy on her skin. “So beautiful. I’m so lucky-- Goddess, how are you this beautiful?”

Before she could answer, Link found a particular angle and Zelda was seeing stars layered on stars. It felt like her heart would snap the bones of her chest, if it meant it could tangle with the one in Link’s. She could hear them, even if she didn’t want to: The war-machines, marching to end the Hero and Princess that failed. _ Searching. Hunting. _

But he’s right here. The cold room made the hairs on her skin stand, but his body radiated heat. He’s her ship in a storm, fallible, but home. Death lingered like an unwanted voyeur, breathing down their necks in chilly gusts.

As an act of defiance, Zelda wrapped him in a complete embrace. She met every one of his thrusts with rhythm of her own, _ heard _ the breath get caught in his throat. Will she miss that, she wonders, when she passes to the Spirit Realm? Will they meet there, or will they be destined to shout at each other, unheard, across an unforgiving void? Her tongue tastes the salt and the copper and the soot and the _ Link _ on the skin behind his ear and she thinks that maybe if she just _ remembers _ this, she can survive an eternity. 

“I’m not ready…” she whispered, felt Link hiccup. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to lose you.”

It felt like he’d been disemboweled. Link croaked pitifully and tried to kiss her, but the weight of their wracking sobs kept interrupting it. He clutched her close and whispered, “Zelda… I’m so sorry.”

The distant crunch and whirr of machines echoed from past the antechamber doors. Terror swept through them both, but Link didn’t slow. If they’re going to die today, they’re going to die on _ their _ terms.

Without regrets.

He kissed her cheek gently, chastely, to calm her down just for a moment. He bracketed her head with his arms, watching as she slowly came undone. They could feel it: the unstoppable building of need, the waft of heat, the lyre-tight tension in their muscles. Just like there’s no stopping the Guardians bent on their slaughter, there’s no stopping the incendiary spark of their orgasms.

There’s no stopping what he moans in her ear.

“_Goddess _… Zelda, I love you.”

Zelda’s cries spread out to the farthest reaches of the cosmos and ring back around them. Her walls fluttered and burst, lips spilling his name sweetly, dragging him off into infinity right after her. Their hands tighten, desperate to keep the universe from wrenching them apart. They knew full well their millimeters would soon become parsecs.

The blast of white at the edges of Link’s vision was brighter than the dying burst of light from the Kittee. They returned to their bodies to find that the tears had finally stopped. They were still there. _ Zelda _ is still here, looking at him with eyes he’d never seen before. Their rushing breaths mingled, their bodies were warm, but Link still felt it.

The coldness, the hunger of a dying man. The kind that drove the Kittee to hunt. The emptiness weighed heavier than dark matter in his lungs.

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready to lose her.

The whirring was getting louder. They jolted upright, their post-coital relief soured by the weight of their fragile mortality. They're coming. They're almost out of time together. Without a shield, without the Kittee, and cornered underground, the nude husks of Hylians huddled together and held their breaths.

They didn't stand a chance. They'll be properly culled from the ranks of prophecy.

Link could hear them in the antechamber now. Clattering and screeching hulls against one another, a goddess-sponsored blitzkrieg. One glance at Zelda, and Link knew that she was so scared that she no longer shed any tears. Her nails dug into his arms, anchoring him to the moment, unable to escape.

The stars watched their execution, apathetic.

It wasn't right. None of this is right. But Link understood what he was taking on when he acquired the Master Sword, accepted the responsibility that came with being the Princess's Knight Attendant. He should be saving Hyrule, protecting her.

Now, here he was, unable to do either.

For the first time, both the Knight and the Hero had nothing to say. They were silent. He never thought he'd miss them.

Without either of them, all that's left is just... Link.

Zelda's body trembled against his. Her words from before, sweet and sincere, echoed in his mind:

> _"I think you’re failing to consider what you want. Not Link the Hero. Link the Person."_   
_"It doesn’t matter what I—"_   
_“It does.”_

Link the Person. Link doesn't know him all that well.

What he does know is that Zelda's scared, and she's all he can see right now. He just wants her to feel safe, if even for a moment. He wants to throw his arms around her, wrap her tight, and absorb every blow from the Guardian beams into his own body, just to keep her safe a little longer. The Kittee had done the same, with only a marginally higher chance of victory.

Zelda seemed to sense a shift within him. "Link...?"

His answer was cut off by their yelps and banging on the huge doors leading to the antechamber. _Slam, slam, slam!_ echoed over and over in the hemispherical observatory. Death's knuckles rapped heavy.

Link swallowed his nerves, gently setting his hands atop of hers. So tenderly, he extracted her nails from his flesh, and looked her in the eyes. "Link? What're you...?"

He didn't say anything. The look on his face said everything for him.

"You're gonna fight..." she surmised, her heart breaking.

Determined, he pursed his lips and nodded. 

"W- wait. Why...?" She knew why. But the idea of letting him go felt like being jettisoned into space. Is it wrong that she wanted to beg him to hold her to the very end? 

The sound of powering ancient beams, muffled by the reinforced stone walls. Then a blast that roared defeningly around them, over and over. Zelda shrieked, adding pitch to the echoes, but Link was quiet.

He gently took her hands in his.

"It's who I am," he said. Starry blue eyes smiled sanguinely at her. "I protect what I love."

His words blasted louder than the barrage against the antechamber doors. Zelda had no tears left to cry, but her throat clenched all the same. He stood, and Zelda felt his fingers slip out of hers, leaving them degloved. "Link--"

Link collected his weapons and drew his bowstring taut. 

A final beam exploded against the doors, a convex dent protruding towards them. It left a tiny crack between them, just wide enough for a mech talon to jam itself between.

And another.

The walls screamed, and blue eyes turned magenta, and Link's arrow flew.


	36. Hylia's Smile

~*~*~*~*~*~

Link is fighting.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, but it was.

Zelda clutched the dirty shreds of her clothes to her chest, unable to look away from the hard wall of person standing wide-stanced between her and unfeeling evil.

His scabbed, road-rashed back rippled as he drew arrow after arrow. The gruesome wounds on his side and chest wrinkled like earth trapped between colliding tectonic plates. There was no sound as she watched his hair flare from the zinging projectiles, stunning each visible target before they could power up their beams.

From this angle, looking up towards the celestial zenith, he was yet another Hero among the stars.

Pinned down, outnumbered, under-equipped, injured, unarmored, and yet… he still fights to protect her. They know that no matter how many he takes out, more will just come. Yet he still fights to protect her. He’s not her Knight, and he’s no-one’s Hero. Yet he still fights to protect her.

Link knows he can’t win, yet he still fights to protect her. 

_ Because it’s who I am. _

A score of legs clamped around the ancient threshold to the Antechamber, working in tandem to rend them apart. The walls screeched, arrows _ pinged _ off of magenta eyes, heads spun. Alarms blared and echoed from the battalion of innumerable machines-- who knew how many were bottlenecked just out of sight?

Finally, the doors were open wide enough for one to slip through.

Then another. And another.

Zelda felt bile and terror bubble acid up her throat at the solid magenta glow from beyond the doors and machines, like a hell-portal opened in the night sky. Link took full range of the battlefield, ensuring he was the closest, and therefore only, target. He feigned artfully, frugal with his arrows as much as he can be. His sword shone Sheikah-blue in the artificial starlight, cleaving through mechanical legs as Link whirled.

The slate’s tearful Sheikah eye stared at her. _ What are you going to do? _

Right. Right, do something! With unwieldy hands, Zelda scrabbled to collect the slate, and activated stasis on the first Guardian it detected. The quickest flash of blue eyes at her-- she surprised him. An unspoken conversation in a glance.

_ I’ll be your backup. _

He seemed to understand, drawing the homicidal gaze of the Guardians towards the one frozen and sliding clean under it just in time to miss two spine-shattering beams. The chains of time disappeared from the golden machine, and the combined force of the blasts sent it sailing over Link’s head and into the wall.

Zelda watched it explode in a cloud of metal and malice.

The others were crowded in at the door. Link seemed to be corralling them there to the best of his ability to single-handedly fend them off. But he was too small; the shepherd’s flock was far too maneuverable and bloodthirsty.

Zelda’s wild anxiety spiked to cardiac arresting levels when she lost sight of Link.

The exact moment she could lock another in stasis, she did. Several beams went off at the same time, and he did the same thing again. Link rolled out from under the time-spliced enemy. Zelda’s heart leaped when she saw him, but it fell right back down at the dead bot flying right towards her. 

Zelda shrieked and flattened to the ground just in time.

She sat up, dazed and unhurt, only to see the split-second where Link was distracted by her echoing scream. Behind him, a fully powered beam back-lit him. Full-body halo.

“Link!!” she screeched.

A moment too late. He keened away, but the blast landed in his thigh.

Link cried out as his legs were taken out from under him, blood flinging in a wide arch. He snarled and rolled to get back to his feet, but his leg gave out from under him. Zelda time-locked the Guardian closest to full-power just before it could fire off the finishing blow.

She could smell his burnt flesh even from this distance.

The emetic experience caused her to hack violently, awash in his second-hand agony. Why does this have to happen? Why does she have to watch this happen to him? Why were the Goddesses so cruel?

Link managed to recover, holding a short-guard with one hand and failing to stymie the gush of blood down his leg with the other. From her angle, she couldn’t see how horrible the wound was; she didn’t have to. Fat globs reflected the malicious magenta lights as they fell to the floor. Link took advantage of the slippery mess made of the floor by using his strong leg to launch forward, slide through the blood, and amputate the guilty Guardian’s limb. His roar was so fierce, she thought for a moment that the Kittee had been resurrected.

He was giving it his all.

Zelda had consigned herself to defeat and yet she couldn’t help but be humiliated of that fact in the face of his insurmountable determination.

It’s something she loves about him.

_ Because it’s who I am. _

What, then, does that make her?

Two more managed to squeeze through the fluctuating barrier. More glowered from behind it, desperately clawing to push past their oblivious kin.

_ Because it’s who I am. _

Who is she, then? The Princess, who had her mother and mentor ripped away too early, scorned by the Goddess with whom she supposedly shares blood? The fated sacrificial lamb? 

The damsel in distress?

A guardian exploded. Two more replaced it. Zelda kept using stasis. Link was low on arrows. It didn’t matter how well they fought, how in sync they were. Zelda could only watch helplessly as another beam blasted into him. His screams choked her like breathing in coal dust, blackening her lungs irreparably. Torrents of blood slid down his arm from the shoulder, misshapen and dislocated. 

Still, he clutched his sword.

_ Because it’s who I am. _

Who is she? Just his deadweight partner in destiny?

Link hunched down and growled, loud enough to be heard over the death machines. He surged forward with staggering ferocity. That’s no knight she’s watching, nor is it some hero. He was animal and wounded, the most terrifying of combinations. 

Even more, he fought like someone who had a reason to fight.

Goddesses be damned. Universe be damned. Hero and Knight and duty and destiny and kingdom--none of it mattered here. He fought because protecting her is _who he is. _

The helpless damsel is not who Zelda is. She is the carrier of the Triforce of Wisdom.

She is a scholar.

She will fight to save him the only way she knows how, because that's who she is.

“Five second intervals-- That’s what I have between stasis discharges. Count. Don’t lose track,” Zelda muttered frantically to herself while she fiddled with the slate.

Five. Camera rune. Album, select last picture. The image she took of the Kittee was there, showing the glowing riddle on its back. Swallow the emotion, just read. Her thoughts went faster than her mouth ever could. For once, she thought silently. Four.

> _ Align the stars that glow untended, _ _  
_ _ Sacred connections come not from skies above, _ _  
_ _ But are earned and defended. _

Three. 

_ Maybe we were wrong. Align the stars-- Align the stars. We thought it was the constellations on Kittee’s pelt. With it dead, we can’t do that. We ‘earned and defended it.’ Wait-- earned and defended. We ‘earned’ the Kittee’s size. It defended us, does that imply--? _

Two.

_ White light. There was white light that came out of it. It’s eyes. When did they start glowing? They didn’t glow when it hunted us, only when-- Only when it defended us against the Stahl creatures! Earned and defended. We can’t bring Kittee here, can’t use it. Can we align-- What sacred connections?? _

One.

Zelda’s rattling hands fumbled the screen, barely managing to switch back to stasis and fulfil her one job as backup while Link fought. She heard his yell-- Fury or pain? No, focus! Don’t lose focus. Back to the camera rune. Last image.

Five. 

_ Sacred connections. Connections-- The translation! The ancient word for connection can also be constellation. Constellation-- they get there by great deeds. Heroes and Princesses before us. They ‘come not from the skies above’-- As in we make them. We make sacred connections strong enough to perform acts of greatness. _

Four.

_ The other Heroes and Princesses! They must have forged connections too. Is that the deciding factor to their success? Only those who do succeed against reincarnations of Ganon? Maybe that’s why the Goddess flooded Hyrule, because a particular pair failed to form a connection. The Kittee was a physical representation of mine and Link’s strength, but still it died. But that was before… _

Three.

_ And how did Kittee wipe out all of those Guardians? Is this why the Unity Trials exist in the first place? To force them to forge a connection? Connection-- as in constellation. Align it… align it, literally? No, it can’t be literal-- nothing in this goddess-damned place is literal! Earn and defend the sacred connections-- Mine and Link’s-- and-- and-- _

All she could see was the sad look in the Kittee’s eyes as it said its goodbyes.

Two.

Frustration skewered behind her eyes. hot and ugly and debilitating. She felt like she was so, so close. But she’d been wrong before. Link wielded his sword left-handed, his dominant hand hewn into useless shrapnel of flesh at his side. He surged forward unevenly with a warcry and hacked off his umpteenth leg while barely missing another barrage of ballistae.

There was no mistaking the sound that his sword made.

Badly damaged.

Zelda thought her panic couldn’t go any higher, and she was wrong. She has to think of a solution _ now _, or she is going to watch the man she loves vaporized in a spray of starlit blood.

One.

She locked the Guardian nearest to full power in stasis, restarting its power-up cycle. Link repeated the goad-and-slide technique, several blasts landing on the timestuck Guardian and blowing it to bits when time resumed. But this only made space for another to squeeze through the door, and Link was not agile enough to herd the barricade back into place. 

For every one he takes out, two more take its place. 

If only she could harness whatever power the Kittee had. 

Five.

_ The Kittee’s power. That power… It was there all along. What was it? If the Kittee is a manifestation of both Link and I… does that mean so was its white light? How did it access that power? _

_ It was defending us when it thought there was no chance of winning. _

Four.

Zelda felt it. A feeling, foreign and out of place in this circle of hell. An ember in the Hebra wind.

A burst of hope.

Link scaled the edifice of a Guardian onto its head and drove his sword into its eye from above. The blade sank in, and snapped in two. The platform Link balanced on spun dizzyingly as it short-circuited. Two beams were fully powered, trained on him.

He leaped into the air, drew one arrow, and stunned it. But when he reached for his quiver for another, all he found was air.

_ Ping. _

Zelda’s heart stopped. He couldn’t dodge while midair. The blast struck him square in the chest, and Zelda felt the scream punched out of her just as hard as he was thrown bodily clear across the battlefield. Link tumbled and rolled to a stop just off to Zelda’s right, leaving a messy streak of blood in his wake.

Link was face-down.

Demonic heads twisted their necks to stare like the possessed. Zelda was at his side before she realized she had moved. “Link!” she urged, pressing at his good shoulder. The knight made a woozy sound and tried to sit up. The effort only made him gurgle on his own blood, spilling over his lips as he coughed.

Zelda took him in her arms, and his dull, bleary-blue eyes lolled up to stare at her.

_ I’m sorry, _ they said.

Zelda felt her soul leave her body. “Link… Link, no…”

The Guardians were stampeding towards them. Zelda could feel them through the floor, knew they were flooding in through the doors, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Link’s as they struggled to stay open. His blood shrink-wrapped, hot and nauseating, over her skin-- her lap, her chest, her arms, her hair.

Blue light slowly fading away under the cold, apathetic stars.

“Link? No, no, please-- Stay with me! Don’t go yet!”

She felt him gently squeeze her hand, his mouth imitating the ghost of a smile. _ See you soon. _ The weak, fluttering strain of his diaphragm slowed to a halt. 

Then his hand went slack.

Something in her heart hardened.

Zelda whipped her head around to stare down the hoarde charging them from the other side of the observatory. Her nostrils flared, her heart ached, but more than that-- more than anything, she wanted to be worthy.

They crowded forward, polluted the night sky with their ugly light, towered over them. Targeting beams crosshatched over their chests. Zelda set her jaw and furrowed her brows, determined.

Worthy of his effort.

She clutched the limp body closer with one hand. The other, she stuck straight out at the Guardians.

Worthy of saving.

The powering beams were nearly complete. White-blue light pushed at the glass of their eyes.

Worthy of him.

A golden triforce appeared on the back of her hand.

Worthy of being his partner in destiny.

Power coursed through her body, concentrated and refracted through her soul and out, out-- Out from her palm with a deafening roar of white light. It expanded in a sphere, swallowing whole the Guardians before her, those flanking their sides, until every shadow had been chased from the Observatory, the antechamber, down the hall-- further than she could know.

She heard the sputtering and fizzling of malice seized from Guardian hosts, but even that died out, leaving her electric with divine energy. Here, in this self-generated world of nothing but pure white, Zelda couldn’t see anything but herself and the body in her arms. 

More than that, she felt the warmth.

It felt like a Goddess’s smile.

It should feel good. It should be an affirmation of everything she’s worked towards her entire life. All those countless years spent pleading and praying and supplicating to apathetic statues; All the times she passed out in Springs; The strain on her relationship with her father; The complete and utter dedication of her identity to being a figurehead-- All of it. All of it was for this moment.

And it hurt more than anything.

"Link... wake up. We're safe," she tried, feeling her gut knot at every word. "Please, Link, wake up... you did so good. Ever my valiant knight. I couldn't ask for a more competent protector. It's time to get up." Her voice broke, nothing more than a whisper.

Nothing. No breath passed his lungs. She felt no pulse.

Zelda stared down at the body in her arms, the marrow in her bones curdling at the sight of his grievous wounds. Yet his face was peaceful as it rested against her bloodied breast, and Zelda couldn’t help the hybrid laugh and sob in her throat. He’d given his all.

He had no regrets.

Lucky him.

Zelda croaked, tears scratching behind her eyes. “I did it, Link…” she whispered, and they streaked down her cheeks and onto his unresponsive face. “Are you proud of me? I finally did it.”

Here, wrapped in the warm blessing of the Goddess, bathed in Her divine light, Zelda had never felt more alone.

She clutched his body to her with all her strength and dropped her head against his. It should hurt him the way she presses into his wounded side or tugs the dislocated remains of his shoulder, but it doesn’t.

Because this isn’t Link anymore.

_ You were right. We were being forced to love something just to watch it die. _

"I've given everything to you. Every ounce of my being. I've dedicated my life to being a vessel of your will. And this... this is my reward?" She stared at her blood-soaked palm incredulously, "A... lightshow and a broken heart?"

No one answered her.

“Why…” Zelda cradled his head in her hands, her face pressed against his. “Why did you take him, too? Haven’t I given enough? I can’t do this… I can’t go on without him. Hylia, do you not love your subjects? Do you not love me?”

She’d happily go back to being a failure if it meant she could keep him just a little bit longer.

“Please… please, give him back! This wasn’t worth it. Please,” she wailed, her voice swallowed by the white-out void. “Please, you can keep your cursed powers, just give him back! Please!”

Tears and mucus and hiccuping devastation came pouring out, mixing ugly and heady with the blood and gore wherever it could. 

“Hylia, please…”

She stared at the white nothingness. It stared back.

“Please… I beg you. I love him. Please, don’t take him from me.”

The white void smiled, apathetic.

Grief seized her, and she collapsed back into Link's body, and fell to pieces. She'd gotten her answer. The tears came forth unfettered, and she cried into his body for eons. Hero and Princess, adrift in time and space.

Zelda only stopped when she heard the sound of running water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
This hurt.
> 
> After all, I can't expect my work to be impactful if it doesn't impact me first.
> 
> I want to extend yet another huge thank you to my readers for going on this journey with me. I can't believe we're at the last chapter. I guess, like the characters, I'm acutely aware of an impending ending. The theme exploring temporary happiness doesn't stop in the fiction.
> 
> You know how this goes: I gush about the overwhelming responses, then somehow there's more of it, and I read them all and cry, then repeat.
> 
> This time, I wanted to give you a gift the only way I know how. Here's the Spring of Unity Spotify playlist I created, and I want to share it with you all! Certified SoU vibes. I went and made it collaborative, so please feel free to add to it!
> 
> [Official Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2bQqdvuvcVhNn9Q9K4nAAT?si=GLOb0d_zSuy3GI29oCw2og)


	37. Zelda's Faith

~*~*~*~*~*~

Running water.

She knew too intimately that sound, that distinct smell. It’s forever imprinted into her psyche-- waterfalls in the Trial of Faith, the hot spring in the Trial of Heat, swimming from platform to platform in a saline void. It meant their situation was fluid and impermanent. It meant that change was coming.

When Link took her hand in his, that was always a good thing.

Now, it’s just another celestial stab in the back. Zelda stubbornly refused to lift her head from Link’s, to unstick the strands from her wet face, to let the sting of insincere light intrude on the dark room of his hair. She focused on the souring scent of his sweat, and not on the coagulating blood or the stench of burnt flesh or the feeling of the Goddess’s spurious smile making her skin crawl.

Zelda’s not ready; she never will be. But she can’t stay still forever. She takes a long, steadying breath and lifts her head. Her eyes zing with pain as they adjusted to the light, slowly taking in her surroundings.

Rainbow fractals of light shone through walls of semi-transparent ice backlit by the sun, scattering stained-glass colors across the lush meadows of grass and silent princesses flowers. Hot water ran in sheets down the solid ice, forever in constant opposition, puffing diaphanous steam into the air to nourish the grove of cherry trees. The hot water played and giggled during its descent, like the tinkling of Koroks, and coalesced into the central hot spring. 

There, in front of an ever-present torrent of hot water, was the pedestal upon which a great Hylia statue rested, larger than any Zelda has ever seen. It was flanked by a semi-circle of six great stone tablets, similar to those found among the land of the Zora.

The beauty of this place was breathtaking.

She wished Link was here to see it.

The thought brought her crashing back down. Vitriol swirled in her heart, ugly and unkempt. Steam entered her lungs, warm and clingy.  _ The Spring of Unity,  _ she thought with contempt. How dare the Goddess deposit her here, when she has just been violently ripped away from her other half of the Trials? What sick cosmic joke is that?

Neither she nor the corpse in her arms laughed.

Beside them on the stone was Link’s Korok pouch. She knew it probably wouldn’t work, but she toed it closer and opened it, rummaging through the impossible depths for his stash of elixirs. She found his strongest Hearty elixir, popped the cap, and angled Link’s head.

If the Goddess was too cruel to help, Zelda will just have to do it herself! She poured it into his mouth, working his unresponsive throat with rough, shaky fingers. “Please work… please work!” She felt eyes watching her desperately fumble to claw his soul back from the Spirit Realm and stuff it back into his broken body.

The bottle was empty. Zelda held her breath. Watching.

_ Something. Anything. A flutter of eyelashes, a cough, twitch of fingers. Anything! _

Nothing.

The aggressive kind of nothing. The kind that takes.

Link’s head lolled sideways and the elixir dribbled out of his lips.

Anger flushed forward, the toxic fumes of fuel on which her heart found the energy to beat. Another idea crossed her blade-sharp mind: The illusory aspect of the Unity Trials. This could be a trick. A false pretense, another way for the Goddess to toy with her sensitive heart. Some half-baked lesson to drive home the point that Link is important to her. Perhaps he sits somewhere, holding her puppet corpse too, roiling in magmatic grief and rage.

She snatched the slate up and pounded commands hard enough to leave little flakes of dried blood all over the screen. 

Please, please read the same. Never before has she ever so desperately wished to see 5:48PM -39*F.

She saw the time.

6:22PM 73*F.

Zelda’s heart flatlined. “No… no, that can’t be right. That would mean we’re not in the illusory realm anymore.” She swiped on the screen, searching for some kind of malfunction to support her hypothesis. What Zelda found was the precise opposite: The map of Hyrule was functioning as intended. No glitches. 

Very certain.

Zelda croaked. She was out of tears, her exhausted body raisined under the strain of recurring finality. It felt wrong to be a dry-eyed pallbearer. 

The hot springs roared in her ears, echoed across the glass-like ice walls. She supposed that she should try bringing Link into the healing hot-springs. It’s no less a pointless venture than force-feeding the dead an elixir or hoping for a loophole in the illusory. 

That’s when Zelda met the gaze of the empty-eyed statue of Hylia smiling falsely down at them. The Goddess that let Zelda’s mother die, that abandoned Her kingdom, that consigned the so-called Princess of Destiny to pointless supplication her whole life, who murdered Kittee, and who laughed as Link was slaughtered before her eyes. Unbridled fury squeezed stomach acid up into Zelda’s throat, and she spat it out as if at the Goddess’s feet. 

_ If She expects me to supplicate in another one of her cursed springs, She’s wrong.  _

The statue only continued smiling. Zelda snarled and tore her gaze away and back to the slate, ignoring that needling feeling of eyes on her.

The slate displayed the photo album. Dozens of little icons sang siren songs to her, captured memories promising breadcrumbs of happier times. Zelda hesitated. It would only make her hurt more, and she knew it, but her finger had selected the first one before she could tell it not to.

A picture of a cold darner, captured in Hebra. Next, the tiny Kittee cowering under her bed. The book found on Link’s dining room table containing the Home riddle. Glowing words on a waterfall in the Trial of Faith.

An adorable photo of Link sleeping in her bed, cocooned in warm bedding, peaceful. Zelda glanced down to the lukewarm weight of Link’s head in her lap, slowly discoloring with livor mortis. He had a similar expression to the photo.

Zelda’s heart lurched. She couldn’t do this.  _ It hurts more to have something and to lose it than to never have it all. _

The waterfalls hushed her, told her to take her time.

She hit the next button on the slate. It was a close-up of her own face, looking needily up at the camera. The unexpected sight punched a laugh out of her gut. Even from the dead, he still got her.

That last thought hit hard. She tried to swallow it, but it sat heavy and dry in her throat. Holding onto hope hurt just as much as letting it go. She didn’t know why, but she had to do this. She swiped past the picture of the Gerudo throne glowing with a riddle. 

Living Link stared at her deadpan through the camera, unamused, his hair all mussed up, the happy Kittee mid-lick on his flat palm protecting his face. She heard the phantom of his wry voice:  _ “Princess.” _ Annoyed.  _ Zelda, please be serious. _ Zelda was caught in the crossfire between grief and laughter. She gently caressed the screen, wanting to feel their warmth, to touch the memory, but instead activated the next button on accident:

A picture of Zelda reaching out to an anxious, wounded Kittee, smaller than in the previous picture.

_ You made me feel worthy, and now what was once safe isn’t. The Goddess set us up. We’re being forced to love something just to watch it die. I was hesitant to become attached, because I knew I would have to say goodbye when the trial was over. _

If only she’d learned that lesson the first time.

She hit next. Kittee in Hyrule Field, on its back, batting up at a butterfly, sunshine warming its belly. The creature was so massive, it didn’t fit in the frame. Beautiful nature shots of the field followed. She could hear his voice over the crackle of fire:  _ We managed to delay the inevitable. _

As if trying to comfort herself, she scrolled through the still-frames of a sun-soaked Hyrule Field. The last image, though, hit hard. The length of Kittee’s spine, glittering with stars, with the final riddle glowing bright on its fur.

Zelda shut the slate off, suddenly out of breath. The stars. She couldn’t bear to think of them. She hated them, hated their soft-blue glow, hated the endless history etched into them, hated the cycle she was a part of purely because of an accident of birth.

Hated how beautiful Link looked outlined above her as he apologized and made love to her one last time.

The slate clattered across the stone. Zelda hadn’t realized that she’d even thrown it.

The Goddess statue just kept fucking smiling.   
  
Finally, Zelda could take it no more. She moved out from beneath the deadweight of Link’s lifeless body and stood, her fists clenched, hunched like a hackled animal. Here, she was the exact antithesis to the celestial beauty surrounding her: raw, covered head-to-toe in blood and viscera, and above all,  _ angry. _ Bitter.

“All my life, I’ve been told to ‘have faith.’ That there is always some devine plan set in place by  _ You,”  _ Zelda began, her voice rattling with grief-wet venom. She approached the water’s edge, glowering up into the towering visage of the statue, as if it were living. “And that’s precisely what I did. I had faith. What has that faith bore me?  _ This  _ is your devine plan? You, in all your divine wisdom, couldn’t think of something better? You flood your own Kingdom. You place your burdens on the shoulders of your children. You lift no finger to save anyone. And yet you have the  _ gall to _ smile your  _ worthless fucking smile at me?! _ ”

The statue only continued to smile. 

The hatred in Zelda’s heart, suppressed ever since she saw her mother in that casket, bubbled up to the surface, strangled her alive. The blasphemy and the sacrilege tasted bitter, the way an entire life wasted would. Like Kittee’s blood and burnt flesh and starlight and embalming fluid. 

Zelda stared down her Devine Oppressor, made brave or stupid or both by her grief.   
  
“Either you are powerless and kind; or you are powerful and cruel. Either way, you are no Goddess of mine. You are not worthy of an ounce of worship. You are  _ negligent _ . You let people die, and yet you expect me to have faith in a single one of your plans.”

Zelda’s voice gradually got quieter, shouted hoarse by her vitriolic rage until she was just an empty husk of a person. 

A voice, cold --too cold for her to recognize as her own-- said, “No more. I refuse to be a part of your plans. Find some other Princess to save Hyrule. Flood it, for all I care. I am no longer your follower.”

Silence rang after her words.

The water continued to flow.

The statue continued smiling at her, unfazed. 

Zelda didn’t know what she was expecting. A lightning-bolt, perhaps? Maybe that the statue’s eyes would glow red, and she’d be dragged bodily into the spring to drown. Both would have been better than what she felt.

And what she felt was nothing.

The aggressive kind of nothing. The kind that takes.

Zelda felt all the fight go out of her limbs and she collapsed to her knees. 

She’s actually lost her mind. “I’m just… talking to a statue,” she exhaled aloud, reality hitting her square in the soul. Suddenly, that display of hatred and bitterness felt castrated. Pointless. Just like everything else she does.

What if Hylia wasn’t even listening?

How woefully in character.

To her own surprise, Zelda laughed. “I’m just talking to a statue. That’s it. That’s all it’s ever been. Isn’t that right, Hylia?” her manic grin jaunted at the statue, which, naturally, did not respond. She could feel herself teetering on some sort of unseen edge, razor-thin and fun to balance in the same way playing with knives is fun. “What do you think, Link?”

She turned back to stare at Link. To her own surprise, she heard his voice.

_ “As I understand it, you are Hylia, in a new form. Having no faith in Zelda is the same as not having faith in Hylia.” _

It took Zelda a moment. Had the corpse spoken? The steam around her tasted like the steam of that memory. Which she then realized, is exactly what she’d heard. A memory. It was the first time Link had ever silenced her. Courage to give, vulnerability to receive. 

Zelda shook out her wild hair, wary of the stars at the edges of her vision.

It was scary. It was confusing. Her sanity felt as slippery as her guts held in place by a weak membrane of skin. Firing neurons sparked seemingly independent of each other, assaulting her with unsolicited memories without her consent:

Opening her bedroom door to allow entry to a starving predator.

She remembered the Gerudo Desert. The Kittee’s great maw pushing them, splaying to get fangs around their tiny bodies. Link’s defensiveness. Zelda’s own voice asking, “Did you… have intent to hurt me?” The creature’s gentleness once they finally gave in. 

Staring down into the abyss, surrounded by waterfalls, her hand clutched in his. She felt it. The faith she once had. Wind in their hair, too loud to scream or speak, like floating underwater. Falling to her death, only to be caught by an unseen hand.

Demonstrating faith, and being rewarded for it.

Zelda felt herself land just on this side of the razor’s edge. An idea, amorphous and abstract and just out of reach, was beginning to occur to her.

Her head lifted, her voice lilting, “Was your plan truly so cruel, Hylia?” she asked the statue. “I feel so… empty. I want so badly to believe. Tell me, did you even have a plan all along?”   
  
Though the statue didn’t move, Zelda felt an answer in the absence. Flanking either side of the statue were the six giant stone tablets she had noticed before. She had been so infuriated by the Goddess’s stare that she hadn’t taken the time to read them. 

She took a tentative step forward. Her foot touched the hot water lapping at the shallow shore and the moment it did, the etchings on the rocks began to glow. 

The inscriptions were ones she had seen before. 

> _ “The warmth of one will die out; The warmth of two will glow unending.” _

Zelda gaped, trying to understand what she was seeing. Unconsciously, she took another step into the hot spring. The latex coating of blood unfurled into the water around her feet. 

> _“Only when the Hero and the Princess demonstrate…__  
__The vulnerability to receive__  
__And the courage to give_ _  
__Will the path forward be revealed.”_

She could feel her entire body bewitched by the warmth of the spring, drawing her closer, a touch-starved infant mewling for embrace.

> _ “Though the path ahead is perilous, _ _   
_ _ Without faith, you will not see the end.” _

That nebulous idea, nursing off the last remaining vestiges of her cerebral fluid, began to take root.

> _ “The path home will reveal itself, _ _   
_ _ When one is nurturing, _ _   
_ _ And a home is found inside another.” _

“Hylia… what…?” Zelda murmured up towards the statue. Its wings were splayed, as they always were, as if hesitating before an embrace.

> _ “A Major Test of Trust.” _

Something stirred in her empty, gutted heart. She was so, so scared to water it, to foster it. She couldn’t take another blow. She couldn’t be let down, not even one more time. She couldn’t afford to be wrong.

> _ “Align the stars that glow untended, _ _   
_ _ Sacred connections come not from skies above, _ _   
_ _ But are earned and defended.” _

“Why…” she murmured, feeling the misshapen loom for her thoughts catch on its own reeds and heddles. “Why are these here? If you intended to kill him all along, why remind us of what we learned?”

Zelda swallowed. The statue smiled.

“He wasn’t supposed to…?” she guessed. The statue made no corrections, and yet, Zelda felt she was wrong, somehow. Somehow, just as wrong as she always had been. Failing upwards, getting closer while walking backwards. “And the Kittee…?”

A headache pounded against her skull. 

“These… these are Your trials. You can’t feign ignorance here.” The statue didn’t deny anything. Didn’t feign anything.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

_ Having no faith in Zelda is the same as not having faith in Hylia. _

Link’s words. They ricocheted in her brain. Did the Goddess summon them? Was it Link’s voice, shouting as it was sucked into the Spirit Realm?

Or was it really, genuinely Zelda, all along?

She could feel it. That spark, that something she so desperately wanted to dodge, more powerful than any Guardian beam. 

_ As I understand it, you are Hylia in a new form. _

A flicker of hope. A spark of faith.

_ You are Hylia in a new form. _

“There’s no way… does that mean…?” She turned to Link’s body, supine and broken, then back to the statue. The glowing Sheikah-blue words blurred in and out of one another. She couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the eye, or if it were literal, or if the difference even mattered.

_ “Warmth of two will glow unending.” _ _   
_ _ “Vulnerability to receive, courage to give.” _ _   
_ _ “Without faith you won’t see the end.” _ _   
_ _ “When one is nurturing.” _ __   
_ “Major Test of Trust.” _ _   
_ __ “Earned and defended.”

She stared at her hand. The same one that harnessed that devastating divine power. It had been inside her all along. Waiting for her to solve the puzzle.

_ You are Hylia. _

That’s precisely what this is: a puzzle. A riddle, just as much as any of the other trials. A lesson she must learn and demonstrate.

_ You are Hylia. _

So that’s what Zelda will do. She knows who she is. She is a scholar. She is the Princess of Hyrule. She carries the Triforce of Wisdom. She will Seal away the Darkness.  She is the Blood of the Goddess.

And that is a statue.

Zelda set her features, determined. The statue smiles down at her. And for the first time, she feels its warmth.

Zelda smiles back.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It lives, that feeling. 

It is a conscious choice, a choice she makes over and over again with every consecutive second. Even as logic and experience and her fear of heartbreak all scream in opposition in her ears, she  _ chooses  _ and affirms that she will let it live.

She refuses to kill it this time. She won’t douse it, won’t stomp out its flame. No longer will she loose an arrow into her foot and curse the Goddess.

Zelda feels it, against all odds:

Hope. Faith. Two feelings, one in the same. 

She collects Link as best she can, dragging him by the arm still locked in its socket. He is as heavy as he is dense, and as dense as he is deceased. 

Yet, Zelda still drags him. Drags, drags, until she is navel-deep, and she can support his weight in her arms. Swirling meadows of blues and blacks and crimsons bloom in the hot water like a liquid exorcism. All Zelda could feel was the burgeoning warmth, the overwhelming relief, the smile of the statue above them.

No longer were the needles in her skin those meant to torture a voodoo doll, but sutures delicately mending her wounds back together.

Zelda watched Link’s peaceful face, keeping it at the surface while the water ran black from the kelp-like sway of his hair. Rainbow light prisms were scattered from the backlit wall of ice, coloring the steam, pinkening her heat-flushed face. She could feel eyes watching them, eyes not belonging to the statue, but she couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere but at Link’s eyelids. All she wanted, more than anything in her entire life, was to see them open.

And she has to believe they will. She has to. She has no other choice.

Because the light of two will never die out.

Because she is courageous enough to be vulnerable.

Because she is nurturing, and he is her home.

Because they earned it, and she will defend it.

Because without faith, they won’t see the end.

Because this is the Spring of Unity. Not time nor space nor death nor reincarnation can ever truly tear them apart. They will always be the chosen two. They are fated. Their destinies are forever intertwined.

And because Zelda will not leave this hot spring unless they open. She didn’t care that the sun outside the glassy ice burst into golds and faded into twilight. Could care less about her body complaining of impending heatstroke. Passing out in devine springs was not something she was new to.

Except this time, she knew what she was truly praying for.

Willingly placed into a trance of her own volition, Zelda remained in that spring. Peace settled in her lungs, as real as the steam and the Goddess’s stare.

In the hot water, her mind’s eye pictured his skin was warm against hers, the clammy cold of death chased out of his body. Maybe the buoyancy of the water would let his blood return to where it belonged and not the floormost plane of his body. Maybe he’d get too warm, and lift his steaming foot into the air to cool off. 

Or maybe--

He coughed a spray of elixir into her face.

Zelda’s eyes blinked open. Oil clung to her lashes, refracting even more rainbows of light.

The body in her arms convulsed, and Zelda’s heart soared. 

“Link?” she breathed, letting his legs fall so he could right himself. Zelda watched in sheer amazement the first sliver of blue roll forward, disoriented, oceanic. Panic gripped him and he clutched her arms, gaze dashing around to gather his surroundings. “Link, Link! It’s okay!” Zelda couldn’t help the fact she was laughing.

The sound seemed to captivate him more than any of the scenery ever could have. His eyes-- his eyes! Conscious and alert and devastatingly beautiful!-- finally met hers. Zelda felt the phantom ghost of tears prickle in her eyes. “We made it, Link,” she sobbed through her brilliant grin, “We’re here. We’re okay.”

For a moment, Link has this blank, endearing expression on his face.

Then: cautiously hopeful. 

Catches her smile. Feels her skin on his, is awed by the smile bearing down on them, the steam, the cherry trees, the watercolor lights--

The breath in his lungs. The pulse in his neck.

Zelda has never seen him smile so wide before.

“We…?” Zelda nods emphatically. Link let out a timorous little laugh, like he still can’t believe it. Then, the next thing Zelda knows, she is wrapped in a crushing hug. The force of it knocks them over with a splash, hot water rushing up into her scalp and dragging away the last vestiges of filth from her person.

They resurfaced, gasping, giggling breathlessly, ecstatic, unwilling and unable to release one another from their four-armed grasp. 

“I-- Zelda, how did-- The last thing I remember--” Link spluttered, visibly overwhelmed. Zelda had a secretive little smile, the kind that made it to her eyes and made his legs useless. “... No way.”

She nodded, only growing brighter by the moment. “Yes.”

“You…?”

“I did it, Link,” she beamed, her voice barely making it past the vice grip of her throat. He gaped at her, desperate for her next sentence as she had been her entire life. “I awakened my powers.”

She saw the moment that tears sprung up into his eyes, teeth unsure whether to grind or clatter. Something shone in his eyes. But before she could really analyze it, he closed them and swooped in to kiss her.

Time stood still.

Even though her breath was taken away, it felt like for the first time, Zelda could finally, finally breathe. It wasn’t just that Link was alive, or that they’d gotten what they came for in the first place. It was that she was wrong.

So, so, so wrong.

They weren’t set up for failure. Their happiness wasn’t temporary. Hylia hadn’t scorned them.

This was the plan, all along. All she needed to do was solve the puzzle. All she needed to do was have faith. Genuine, actual, true faith.

What Zelda had mistaken for apathy was just patience.

Glittering water dripped from their arms as they grabbed one another’s faces. Their mouths separated only the bare few millimeters required to breathe, her forehead pressed to his, breathing each other’s air like it was the only source of oxygen for miles.

Zelda’s voice, small, shaky, breached that tiny distance. “I missed you.”

She felt him swallow thickly. He had no words. The sheer joy and relief had stolen them away. He only smiled wetly and pulled her closer, pulling her into an embrace warmer than any hot spring.

Neither knew how long they stayed like that. White moonlight filtered in from outside, cutting the cherry trees and silent princess flowers in bright relief. 

The feeling of eyes on them continued. Link picked up on it as well, their embrace slowly unravelling in favor of investigating their new, brave reality. 

In the grove of trees, a flash of turquoise.

Zelda’s heart levitated. “Link! Did you--”

“I saw it, too,” he affirmed. Wordlessly, they exited the spring, bodies glistening, clean, and healthy. Cool air furled around their pruny skin. 

What was that flash of light? She thought she’d felt eyes on her since she arrived, but assumed it had to do with the Goddess. 

Then, more flashes.

In the waning light, little flickers of glowing golds and blues. Eyes watched them, skittery, cautious. Then, the longer the Hylians and the hundred-eyed forest stared at each other, the braver the glowing lights became. Zelda’s jaw dropped, a childlike wonder worming into her expression.

Dozens of tiny glowing felines emerged from the underbrush: curious eyes, trilling softly, wiggling golden leaves in the air.

“Link!” Zelda gasped and crouched down, emboldening them to approach. The little bodies scampered up into the branches of the trees, pressed through the lush grasses, got silent princess pollen in their whiskers.

The boldest climbed up into her lap, nudging against the underside of her chin. Zelda couldn’t help but melt and stroke its back sweetly while it trilled and trilled. “Link! This is unbelievable! Can you… Link?”

Link’s hand was over his mouth, taking in the magical sight. His eyes were wide, like he was just realizing something. The neon lights painted impressionist galaxies in his eyes. He was looking just behind her.

She followed his gaze.

While she had her back turned to the spring, a great creature had taken over the stone monuments. It lay sprawled, lazy, across all six giant stone tablets. It’s golden, leafy tail coiled once around the monumental pedestal supporting the Hylia statue and ended at the far end of the spring. Celestial constellations glowed brighter than the night sky on its body, shifting in relation to their true position in the heavens. Its tigrine eyes regarded them silently.

The sheer force of its breath temporarily dispelled the steam puffing from the hot waters. 

The statue smiled.

Link couldn’t take his eyes off of the enormous creature, even as several Kittees marked against his calves. It could rival the three Ancient Spirits in size alone, but it was the combination of warmth and power that brought Link to his knees. This… this is the physical manifestation of them?

Zelda breathed, “Is that one…?” Theirs? 

It’s eyes were warm with recognition, warm enough that Zelda could have sworn it was smiling. Then, the creature chuffed sweetly at them. Zelda’s heart swelled ten sizes too big.

“It… can’t die,” he said, so quiet Zelda almost didn’t hear him.

They sat in the metaphysical implications of that.

The stars made Zelda feel small, and for the first time, that was a good thing.

The Hylians stood again, hands clasped together and heads craned back to watch as the great beast moved. It’s paw stepped into the hot spring, the sheer mass displacing water over the shores to scorch the surrounding grasses. Kittee stooped its huge maw down to their level, the deep rumbling sound in its chest offset by the cheery trills and mewls surrounding them. 

They should have been terrified, but instead they felt wonder and relief.

A moment of that giant eye watching them, and it was Link who finally spoke and gently set his hand on it’s cheek. “Hey, Kittee. Good to see you.” The creature let out a happy sound that echoed off the water and ice walls. Zelda laughed as it pushed the great, wide plane of its forehead sweetly against its tiny, tiny Hylians. The blinding neon lights cast them in all different shades of Sheikah blue. 

In that embrace, surrounded by stars, Hero and Princess stood hand-in-hand, fearless.

The statue smiled down at them, kind and full of love.

When the creature finally pulled away, towering high over the canopy line, it turned and approached the glass wall of ice on the farthest side of the enormous chamber. Zelda watched in awe as it reared up onto its hind legs, ears flattened to the ceiling, and hooked giant claws into some unseen ledge at the top. With a mighty flex, it  _ pulled _ , and a cryonis-shaped block of wall was forced into the ground.

The walls rumbled, but did not screech as they would have expected, as if the block of ice was designed to be moved. 

A cold gust fronted against the hot steam from the Spring of Unity, swirling confusingly around their tiny, exposed bodies, and they shivered. They knew that wind:  _ Hebra. _

“Link,” she tugged gently on his wrist, then pointed to his Korok pouch still laying near the shore. He quickly got her meaning and began searching through it for their warm clothes. Their Kittee-- along with hundreds of others-- watched them expectantly as they hurriedly dressed. Zelda collected the Sheikah slate. 

As they made to follow the giant creature to the exit, Zelda paused and met the gaze of the statue. Quietly, she smiled and whispered her thanks. Hylia’s smile filled her with warmth.

As they walked through the forest, the cold wind of Hebra night grew more vicious by the moment. Cherry trees were frost-bitten near the exit. Kittee sat patiently, watching their approach, snowflakes glittering in its fur.

Exhausted, elated, stretched thin, and overjoyed, Zelda stared out into the open Hebra wilderness. Her Kingdom.

She turned back to Link, about to say something, but her words died on her tongue. He was staring over his shoulder towards the spring, the statue, the entourage of sprite-like kittees playing in the silent princess meadows. His face was pained.

“Link…?”

His face fell, as if her voice had hurt him. Slowly, he turned back to her. “Are you… really ready to leave?” She heard what he was truly saying:  _ I’m not ready to leave. I want to delay the inevitable. _

It’s amazing just how much he missed while he was gone.

Zelda, to his surprise, just chuckled quietly and shook her head. She took his hand in both of hers, “Let me guess. ‘ _ Something, something, I’m your Knight, and we can’t’ _ ?” The shock in his electric-blue eyes said she’d hit the right note. “Link, while you were out, I had something of an epiphany…” She tried to find words, but there was no fast explanation available.

Instead, she summarized, smiling affectionately up at him, “We’re far past that. Let’s just say… We have the Goddess’s blessing.” His confused, cautiously hopeful expression was absolutely, devastatingly adorable. Her hands squeezed his, a playful little lilt making into her voice, “And anyone who dares defy that, well… They will have quite a fight on their hands.”

Link followed her gaze from her own hands, then up, up,  _ up _ to the Kittee’s face. It let out a castle-width yawn and a low  _ awoo.  _

Her words sank in slowly. 

Link’s chest shuddered by an unnamed emotion. Something bigger than either of their titles. “You…” he searched her eyes, deadly serious, scouring for any deceit. He found none. “You’re serious.”

Zelda nodded.

“I am.”

A wide grin split his face and Link rushed forward to kiss her again, as if involuntarily. Quick, wild, elated. They separated, and Link was practically  _ vibrating _ with joy. 

As if that was the deciding factor, Link turned his shoulders squarely towards the opened wall, his arm firmly around her waist. Zelda watched him regard the Kingdom enigmatically. The Hebra wilderness no longer looked so scary. 

Finally, mind made up, he said, “Okay.”

_ Okay. Let’s do it. Together. _

Nothing can stop them. Not time, space, death, destiny, or titles.

They’re ready. 

They earned it.

Link released her, equipped his Master Sword, and took an intrepid step out into the cold.

“Link, wait,” Zelda said behind him. She had an impish little grin on her face, one upturned palm stretched out expectantly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He blinked, at a loss. She just continued to grin, palm out and patient. Kittee cocked its giant head down at their antics.

After a beat, Link got it.

He burst into laughter and shook his head. “Right, right. Of course.” Zelda’s grin became triumphant as he dug around in his Korok pouch.

His nose brushed hers, and her heart fluttered, and she felt the cool weight he placed in her hand.

Link paid her twenty rupees.


End file.
